What's Left of Me
by Kurohane Ookami
Summary: He had always been alone, always taken care of himself. Why would anything change now? M for language and violence.
1. Chapter 1

**So, Singer and I went to see ROTG tonight, and holy crap did we ever get swamped by plot bunnies. **

**Warning: There is a lot of angst and hurt in this fic. **

**Disclaimer: I do not own Rise of the Guardians. **

**Summary: He had always been alone, always taken care of himself. Why would anything change now? **

o-o-o-o

_He was still grasping at the faint tendrils of light that wavered above him, his vision darkening at the edges as he tried to make it back up to where he could _breathe_, where he knew he would be safe._

_But he felt as though the weight of a thousand stones was weighing him down, and with a sudden shiver of horror realized that he was dying. He felt his eyes widen, felt the frigid fingers grasping at his body and pulling him deeper with empty promises and soothing murmurs. _

_His struggles grew weaker, and he tried to breathe in, only to find cold surging into his mouth and lungs, making him choke on the icy taste that it brought with it. The spots at the edges of his eyes expanded, and suddenly he was staring at the moon, its pearl hue glimmering above him, taunting him as he drowned in its light. _

o-o-o-o

It was the same dream. The same nightmare that had been plaguing his thoughts for the last two years. He could never shake that feeling of utter helplessness as he felt himself dying, even if it was a dream.

_I have got to find something better to dream about. _

Jack shifted on the bare tree branch that he had designated as his perch for the night, his breathing slow but his heart still thrumming in his chest. Inhaling the cool air that always seemed to surround him, he was filled with calm, and managed to relax his stiffened muscles.

It was still night, the stars above glittering gently, and he ran a pale hand through his snowy hair before shifting the staff laying across his lap so he could stand.

His bare feet easily found holds in the slippery bark, and his frost blue eyes surveyed the surrounding forest that provided him a comforting shelter. For a moment, he considered seeing if Sandman was still around, but decided against it as the wind brushed against him like an anxious cat.

The familiar thrum of joy filled his heart as he leapt from the branch, trusting the wind to carry and guide him safely to wherever it desired. He had a strong affinity with the wind, and he trusted it with his life.

He soared above the town, over snow covered buildings and trees, finally settling on a telephone wire, his staff tapping against the lines lightly and spreading the ever present frost onto its surface. Scanning the surrounding streets, he finally allowed himself to lighten his steps and momentarily grin mischievously. However, the smile faded as ghostly images danced behind his eyelids, reminding him the reason he was out in the first place.

Jack knew that this wasn't normal. But he wasn't about to go off and start telling the other Guardians about his nightmares. They would try to 'help' him. He didn't need their help, nor did he want it. He'd been fine on his own for the last three hundred years.

Why would something like that change now?

Even when he ran into Sandman, he was wary, unused to the contact. He'd always been alone, no one believing in him, always filled with emptiness and hopelessness. He had suffered the one thing that every other Guardian feared, and he had done it for hundreds of years. After Pitch had begun his attack against them, each of the Guardians learned very quickly what it was like to not be believed in. But the only Guardian who had been affected the most heavily had to have been Bunnymund.

That Easter had been terrifying for him. He'd been right there, as Jack had been, and had been completely isolated from the children. They had walked through him, as if he hadn't even been there.

And Jack knew that Bunny was _never _going to forget how that had felt.

He and Jack had reached an understanding of sorts because of it. Sure, Jack was still one of Bunny's least favorite Guardians, but he now understood why Jack was so withdrawn and sarcastic. He also understood why he became so defensive whenever someone made a comment about not being believed in.

Frowning, Jack shook his head. No, he was not about to go to the Guardians. Tooth would start prying his jaw open to take a good look at his teeth, and North would corner him and then proceed to attempt to get information from him. Yeah, he was not about to go through that again.

Hearing a sudden crack of something behind him, he whirled, his staff automatically readied to attack. His frozen gaze narrowed, darting around warily before he turned daintily on his heel, continuing along the telephone line.

"Well, nice to see you're still as jumpy as eva." a rough Australian voice commented, nearly making Jack shoot off a blast of ice.

"I have every right to be, Kangaroo." he replied lightly, twirling his staff before lightly descending from the line, his bare feet barely making a sound as they made contact with the snowy ground. "Besides, last time I was out in the middle of the night, you stuffed me into a sack and threw me through a magical portal."

"And if Ah recall correctly, tha' was North's idea." Bunnymund shrugged, toying with his boomerang lightly as he leaned against a building. "Not mine."

"Ah, but you were involved." Jack grinned, sticking his staff upright into the ground and perching on it gracefully. "So, what brings you around here? Isn't it a little _frosty _here for you?"

Bunny shrugged, sliding the boomerang back into the pouch slung around his back. "There's not a lot to do when Easter only comes once a year."

"And?" Jack prodded, raising a dark brow. "Don't tell me you came all this way just to have a little chat."

"Maybe Ah did." the Pooka challenged. "Want ta make somethin' of it?"

Jack forced an innocent expression onto his face, spreading his hands. "Now why would I do such a thing? I'm simply out enjoying the cool night breeze."

Bunnymund gave him a look that was clearly not buying his excuse. Sighing, Jack leapt down from his staff, tapping it idly against the ground. "Why did you come looking for me?"

"North's worried. Again." Bunny rolled his eyes.

Jack found himself smirking. "Worried about poor little Jack Frost being an annoyance again?" he drawled sarcastically. "Really. Isn't it my job to be an annoyance to the world? I bring the snow and the cold and the frost, and all people see it as is an inconvenience."

Bunnymund took a closer look at the Winter Spirit, only then noticing the almost blue bags under his eyes, the resigned way he was holding himself, regardless of how he was trying to cover it up. He was looking thinner, too, as if he hadn't been keeping himself healthy. He was tempted to inquire into it, but held himself back. It would be highly unlikely for Jack to even admit that he wasn't feeling well, let alone tell him why.

"Ah wouldn't quite say that." Bunny said casually. "You were quite good at takin' down Pitch."

Jack snorted, half turning away from the Pooka. "Yeah. My three days of fame." he rolled his eyes. "And yet, only seven of them believe."

Bunnymund frowned, about to protest, when he realized that the Winter Spirit wasn't lying. After saving all of the Guardians and the children, there were precious few that actually knew that Jack Frost existed too.

"Now, if you'll excuse me." Jack bowed mockingly before leaping up, the wind immediately sweeping him high into the sky.

Bunnymund couldn't do anything other than to watch the white haired Guardian disappear from sight, absorbing his words.

"That went well." he said sarcastically to himself before tapping his foot and creating one of his tunnels. Leaping inside, it sealed itself, a bright flower blooming where the tunnel had appeared.

He had an appointment with North.

o-o-o-o

Jack knew he was still bitter about the entire 'still not believed in' situation he found himself in. He also knew that he really shouldn't be taking it out on the other Guardians. After all, it wasn't their fault that he was alone.

Taking in a deep breath, he slumped against the wind's gentle current, looking up at the moon.

"I thought that becoming a Guardian would mean that people would believe in me." he whispered.

Ever since he had been born into the life of Jack Frost, all he'd ever wanted was for someone to believe in him. He'd been so isolated, so alone, that he had begun to go mad. He'd lost himself to the frost and cold that lived inside of him, barely living.

He'd only ever met one child that had believed, many years ago. She had been a slight thing, frail as a rose being swallowed up by the frost that he was so aptly named for.

Desperately, he'd gotten close to her, needing to be touched, needing communication with someone, needing relief from his isolation.

And she had given it to him completely.

But it hadn't been long before she grew older, touched by the worn hands of time. Eventually, she forgot about him, forgot about everything, and died.

Since then, he had never opened his heart to anyone, never trusted anyone enough that they would stay. He'd learned to never let anyone get close to him, in order to avoid seeing them pass right through him, which tore his heart ever more.

"Take me home, wind." Jack asked softly, feeling the currents he was riding on turn gently.

He was still wary of the other Guardians. How did he know that they wouldn't abandon him, as they had when he'd retrieved his memories from Pitch? He was the outsider in their group.

"Why did you bring me back?" he asked uselessly, knowing the moon would never answer. "Why bring me back only to have me suffer more than I ever had before?"

But of course, the Man in the Moon didn't reply. He hadn't really though that he would, but there was still a flickering hope somewhere deep within him that was still fighting to stay alive. One that whispered, _Have hope. Don't give up yet. There's always next time. _

Jack grit his teeth, turning away from the moon.

Maybe there wouldn't _be _a next time.


	2. Chapter 2

**Warning: There is a lot of angst and hurt in this fic.**

**Disclaimer: I do not own Rise of the Guardians. **

**Summary: He had always been alone, always taken care of himself. Why would anything change now?**

o-o-o-o

Jack flew threw through the town, spreading frost as he went absently.

Staff clenched in his fingers, he tried to remember the dream that he had had that night. So far, he was coming up with nothing. Had Sandman come by and given him a pleasant dream?

No, Sandy wouldn't do that. He was swamped as it was. He rarely had the time to put aside time to personally hunt down the whimsical Winter Spirit just to give him a pleasant dream.

Pushing the thought aside, he alighted on one of the roofs of a building, looking over his handiwork with a practiced eye. There was the frost, the cold...all that was missing was the snow, and that wouldn't take long to summon anyway.

Glancing at his staff for a moment, he sighed, taking a seat on the edge of the building, allowing his legs to dangle against the side of it. As long as there were children in the world, he would have to put aside his problems and bring them joy in the snow and frost that he created for them.

The dawn had yet to break- he'd finished his task in record time. Already, snow clouds were moving in, their hue dark, but not as dark as thunder clouds.

He couldn't quite place why, but he'd always preferred snow or rain to the sun. Probably because he and heat didn't mix well. Heat made him sickly and unable to think straight. According to North, he was not to stay in heat for too long, for it may permanently affect him and his power.

Rolling his eyes, Jack slid over the edge of the building, landing neatly on the ground below. His feet were welcomed by the frost, and for a moment a spark of pure joy lit in his chest. It soon faded as he noted one of the many early birds of the human race walking down the sidewalk towards him. He moved out of the way quickly, unwilling to be put into the ever familiar situation of being walked through.

_Other than the Guardians and those kids, no one even knows I walk among them. _he thought sourly, narrowing his eyes at the figure now walking away from him. Feeling particulary bitter, he sent a quick jolt of frost down the sidewalk, feeling nothing as the male slipped with a yell.

He gathered himself before leaping into the air, the wind cushioning him as he left the town behind.

He'd tasted the joy and freedom that being believed in brought, inhaled it greedily. And then, he'd been thrust back into the stark reality that it wouldn't change anything. He was still Jack Frost. Still unbelieved in, still alone, still unwilling to share his sob story with anyone but himself.

And still scarred.

o-o-o-o

"What you mean, 'Jack not look good?'" North queried, crossing his tattooed arms over one another and frowning at Bunnymund.

"Ah mean, Jack doesn't look good." Bunny retorted. "He looks like he's fadin'. But he's not."

"Curious." North rubbed his chin through his beard absently. "He still has staff, yes?"

"Ah'd asume so. Otherwise Ah don't think he woulda flown off. As per usual." the Pooka drawled, toying with his boomerang, keeping a close eye on the man. North was sometimes prone to overthinking things, and he knew that if that happened, Jack would no doubt find himself shoved into another sack in the near future.

"Oi, mate, it could just be because it's that time o' the year again. He's busy."

"What if not? What if Jack fading?"

"Oh boy." Bunnymund sighed, covering his eyes with a paw. Now he'd done it. Jack was in for it now. "Mate, Frostbite ain't goin' anywhere. He's more stubborn than that."

"But- but-" North sputtered, cut off by the sudden arrival of Sandy.

The little man hovered a couple of inches off of the floor, his golden sand form sparkling as it usually did. Images began flickering above his head, and from the gist of it, he was making North more worried.

"Jack not sleeping well?" the giant man confirmed, recieving a nod from Sandy.

"I'm just gonna go now." Bunnymund stated calmly, tapping his foot. "After all, Jack's gonna need a little time to brace himself for this one."

o-o-o-o

Jack was beginning to doze off on the ice of the lake that had birthed him, the moon shining on his face, when he heard the familiar sound of ground moving. He didn't flinch, his hands still tucked behind his head, staff held protectively in one of them.

"Back so soon?" he asked in a monotone, not making an effort to move.

"Sandy sold ya out, mate. North's probably gettin' the yetis ready as we speak." Bunnymund crouched by the frozen water, unwilling to step onto the surface. He knew what could happen if someone his size stepped onto the ice, regardless if the Winter Spirit was right there. "How ya holding out, Frostbite?"

Jack shrugged, still laying in the center of the lake, not replying for several moments.

"I don't understand why I was brought back if only to take down Pitch." the teen finally murmured, opening his frosty blue eyes to stare up at the moon. Bunnymund was silent, coming to the conclusion that he was probably going to become a bunny icecube if he told anyone else what he was being told. He knew how jittery the white haired Winter Spirit was. "All of those years, all I ever wanted was to be heard, be seen and felt."

The boy sighed, the sound soft. "And there was always the fear. That fear that one day, I would fade away. I would fade away, and no one would care."

Bunnymund listened to Jack's words, feeling himself begin to lose himself in them. This was probably one of the only times in the boys lifetime that he would willingly leave himself vulnerable like this. The Pooka couldn't help but wonder _why_, however, that it was to him.

As if reading his thoughts, Jack turned his head to stare directly into Bunnymund's eyes. "For three hundred years, no one could see me. No one could hear me as I talked to them. In all of those years, only one child believed in me."

Pieces of a puzzle were beginning to align themselves. Jack was speaking to him alone because he had gotten the smallest taste of what he'd had to endure for years. He felt himself blinking back sudden tears, the reality of Jack's situation slamming into him.

All he'd ever wanted was to feel included, have a home and a family that he could speak to about what he was going through. But he got none of that. He got isolation, fear, and hopelessness.

And suddenly, he understood why Jack was so reluctant to stick around the other guardians.

He was afraid of them.


	3. Chapter 3

**Holy gingerbread elves that tango. The positive feedback that I'm recieving is amazing. **

**Betcha didn't see that ending coming though, did you? Lots of drama makes for a happy author, in my case. **

**Warning: There is a lot of angst and hurt in this fic.**

**Disclaimer: I do not own Rise of the Guardians. **

**Summary: He had always been alone, always taken care of himself. Why would anything change now?**

o-o-o-o

_And suddenly, he understood why Jack was so reluctant to stick around the other guardians._

_He was afraid of them._

Bunnymund stared in shock at the teen, his limbs locked in place at the realization.

Cautiously, he began shifting his weight onto the ice, his large paws having little difficulty finding a grip on the slippery surface.

Jack could act a little odd, in terms of how close he was to the Guardians, true. He was distant, closed off, and it was that side of himself that he revealed faintly to the Guardians. It had been two years since the battle with Pitch, and even though Jack was now a Guardian, it was difficult to actually say if he was one. The only real reason he could see for he and the other big three trying to befriend the boy was because of his newfound status of Guardian. But there was a lack of trust that needed to be established before any actual friendships could be made, and Bunnymund would quite clearly admit that he was having a bit of trouble putting aside his past encounters with the Winter Spirit.

"Jack, mate?" the Pooka asked softly, moving closer, still keeping an eye trained on the ice below him.

Jack remained still, and Bunnymund could barely see the rise and fall of his chest as he breathed. However, he flinched when the Pooka gently ran a paw through his snowy hair, an unusually serious expression on his features.

This was not the same child he'd had a run in with in '68. This was a weathered and worn teenager who had grown to see the world through bitter eyes, but forced himself to hide behind the walls and false smiles to protect himself from anyone who would try to get close to him.

He stayed there for several minutes, simply running his paw through Jack's hair, not knowing what he could say that would ease his mind. If there was even anything that could.

"Ah won't say anythin' to the others." he promised quietly, beginning to back away.

However, he was stopped when cool fingers touched a paw, half lidded blue eyes silently pleading with him to stay. "Don't.." Jack murmured, his head tilted to Bunnymund's direction. "Please."

Bunnymund paused, his eyes widening slightly before he moved back, continuing to stroke the soft strands of white until Jack fell asleep.

It was only then that he left, silently promising to return soon.

o-o-o-o

"He's asleep, alright?" Bunny crossed his arms, narrowing his eyes at North, who was conspiring with Tooth and the yetis on how they would be bringing the boy to the North Pole. "There's no need for 'im to come here. He's just tired. Ask Sandy."

Sandman nodded, images of dolphins appearing above his head as he smiled gently.

North paused, his own eyes narrowing. "You sure? Jack only tired?"

"For the last bloody time, mate, yes." Bunnymund retorted, feeling the sudden urge to smack the man upside the head with a boomerang. "I checked up on 'im. He's _just tired_."

Tooth flittered above worriedly, murmuring to the Baby Teeth at supersonic speeds, though she occasionally tilted her head to listen to what else was being said before relaying it.

Bunnymund rolled his eyes. "Tooth, Frostbite ain't about to run off and disappear. He's just busy bringing the frost to the people."

Tooth looked unconvinced, but came lower to join in on the conversation. "I'm just worried about the poor thing." she twittered. "He's always so busy around this time of the year. It can't be healthy."

"What ain't healthy is Easter." Bunnymund snorted. "Ah get the eggs done up the day before, and then have to hide 'em. Ah say Jack's doin' fine."

Tooth still didn't look won over, and Bunnymund didn't exactly expect her to be. She was always protective of children, especially because of her Baby Teeth. Ever since Pitch had kidnapped them and attacked her, she'd been out in the field more with them in order to protect them. This motherly instinct, through the incident, now extended to Jack because of his roll in rescuing them.

"Tooth. You know Ah wouldn't lie." Bunnymund grumbled, a little insulted at her skeptical attitude. After how many years of knowing each other, and she picked _now _to be stubborn?

"It's just-" she started, her feathers rippling with distress.

"Ah know." Bunnymund said softly, his features relaxing. "We're all worried about 'im. But he's doin' fine."

North heaved a gusty sigh before shrugging. "Very well. If Jack is only tired than there is no need to bring him here." the man announced before turning back to the yetis, who had gathered around to listen in on the meeting.

"What you all standing around for? Get back to work!"

o-o-o-o

he was woken by the sunlight hitting his toes.

Blinking, his white hair tousled from sleep, (one of the first dreamless in several months) Jack pulled himself into a sitting position, trying to remember what exactly had happened the night before. He had been scared, he recalled. Scared of the forest that surrounded the lake, scared of being alone. Even though the Man in the Moon had been shining from above, he'd still been afraid.

After that, everything was blurred, as if he were looking at it through a thick fog.

Frowning to himself, he leapt up, his heart lighter than it had been for a long time, beckoning the wind to come and lift him high above the world.

A mischievous grin crossed his pale face, his frosty eyes sparking and his snowy hair catching the sunlight and making it glimmer like his namesake. In the sun, his staff held in one hand, he bounded across the sky, appearing every inch the Winter Spirit that he was.

He darted through the next town, snow having already fallen, spreading frost along the ground before he came across a group of children building a snowman. A bright grin on his face, he walked around it before whipping up a miniature twister of snow. When it cleared, a small army of snowmen were standing, features made out of ice.

Gleefully, the children burbled with laughter, running around with their eyes wide in childish curiosity.

Blinking, one of the little girls, her dark curls framing her face, a pink hat dangling off of her head. She giggled, flashing him a gap toothed grin before following her friends, her yellow boots making little clicking noises as she ran.

Jack remained standing there for a moment, an expression of startlement on his face. She had seen him? _She _believed in him?

Letting out a whoop, he flew straight up in the air, snow surrounding him as he tilted his face back to the sky, his joy uncontained as he swooped through the sky like a blue and white falcon.

It was moments like these that he lived for. Discovering that someone out there believed in him, smiled at him, offered him some kind of acknowledgement that they knew he was there.

Too bad it was only a temporary high.


	4. Chapter 4

**So, I got a bit of a mini-rant for you folks out there reading this little fic of mine. This is loosely based off of a review that I recieved, and I'm just clearing some of the plot up for you now. Yes, I have a plot planned out for this fic. Yes, it is going to be introduced sometime in the next couple of chapters. No, I'm not about to tell you what it is. But...it begins this chapter?**

**And don't forget to drop me a review at the bottom of the page. I love hearing what you think of my writing, gives me a warm, fuzzy feeling inside. Kind of like Tooth when she gets her hands on a nice and bloody tooth. **

**Warning: There is a lot of angst and hurt in this fic.**

**Disclaimer: I do not own Rise of the Guardians.**

**Summary: He had always been alone, always taken care of himself. Why would anything change now?**

o-o-o-o

_"Ah, Jack. It seems you're still afraid of me." the voice murmured, a menacing rumble to it. "I thought you said yourself that you were no longer afraid of the Boogeyman hiding under your bed."_

_"I'm not!" he yelled back defiantly, though his voice wavered in uncertainty. "You're not- you're not real anymore."_

_The sinister laughter floated around him, taunting, light. "Now, now, Jack. Remember, I know all of your fears."_

_He hissed in reply, half crouching like a cornered feline, eyes darting every which way. "I am not afraid of you!" he snarled into the emptiness before him. _

_The shadowy dust whirled lazily around his feet, crawling up his legs unpleasantly. _

_Amber stared back at him from the centre of the darkness. "Are you certain of this, Jack?" Pitch asked, almost softly. _

_Before he could do anything, he was being dragged down into choking, suffocating Pitch Black. _

_"Are you sure you aren't even the slight bit...afraid?" _

_Jack struggled to gain breath, struggled against the binding heat that was trying to kill him, fighting to speak through the thick shadow dust but unable to. Panic overwhelmed him, more than it ever had before, and suddenly he could breathe again. _

_Pitch looked down on him with faint amusment. "Jack.." he murmured. "You should know by now. I know _all _of your fears. Including your inescapable, awe inspiring, fear of the dark." _

_Jack trembled ever so slightly against the ground, his breath coming in short pants, eyes wide. His brief bravery had run its course, and now he was completely helpless against any attack that Pitch could throw at him. The fact that his staff was nowhere in sight only worsened his condition. _

_"How your fear feeds me." Pitch murmured into his ear, running a finger down the back of his neck gently. "It makes me wonder, then, what will happen once I take everything from you."_

_"Leave them out of this." _

_Pitch chuckled again. "Oh?"_

_"It's me you want. Leave them out of this." he said evenly, his posture stiffening, his eyes suddenly boring into Pitch's. _

_"So brave, Jack." Pitch crooned, patting his cheek. "And to think, I'll be seeing you so very, very soon."_

_Jack's eyes widened. _

o-o-o-o

Jack bolted upright, his heart pounding in his chest similarly to that of a hummingbird. His hair was tousled, his skin was even paler than it usually was, and a thin sheen of sweat coated his face and neck.

Almost desperately, he grabbed for his staff, in a near panic until his fingers clenched around the familiar knotted wood. He panted lightly, his gaze near feral as he scanned the forest surrounding him, the shadows lingering and sinister as they moved in the sunlight.

Pitch's words were echoing his skull, jabbing him brutally and without mercy.

He couldn't do anything to help. He was useless.

Jack choked, bowing his head in defeat as he stared down at his staff. He didn't see anything special about it. All it did was contain all of his power to manifest the snow and the cold and the frost. No big deal.

Besides, it was nothing in comparison to the Big Four. Sandman was made out of sand and flew a plane made out of his dream sand. Toothiana was part hummingbird and could fly. North had his swords and his eternal joy. And Bunnymund...he was a rabbit. A seven foot tall Pooka who painted eggs and had two kick-_ass _boomerangs.

And what did he get?

The staff that couldn't do anything to defend him when he needed it most.

He could have sworn that he heard faint laughter at that thought, but he brushed it off. Pitch already tormented him in his dreams. He refused to allow him to do the same in his waking hours too.

"Frostbite? Mate, you here?"

Jack froze. What was Bunnymund doing here?

Silently, he flitted to the trees, staff in hand, weariness weighing him down as he studied the Pooka. Bunnymund's ears were pricked for the slightest sound, he knew, and his scent would no doubt reach his nose if he didn't take action. Subtly, he called to the wind, asking it to cloak him from the Pooka so he could make a quick getaway.

Before he could quite accomplish this task, however, Bunnymund caught sight of him.

"Frostbite!" he called, concern evident in his tone.

Jack paused for only a moment before disappearing in a small cloud of snow, refusing to look back. He knew that if he looked back now, he would turn back. He couldn't do that to them. He was risking everyone by playing this game, and it was time that he took himself out of the picture.

_"Frostbite!" _

Jack couldn't help but look back at Bunnymund's distressed call, but refused to go back. He steeled himself against the pleading and the confusion in the Pooka's gaze, and he couldn't do much more than whisper a single word.

_"Good-bye." _

o-o-o-o

"North! Frostbite's missin'!"

It was amazing what three words could do to the Russian while he was asleep.

North bolted from the bed and was already half dressed, asking questions at a million miles an hour in Russian while Bunnymund just stared at him like he was crazy. Not that he was putting it past the man, mind.

"North, mate. English, please."

"Oh. Sorry." the man paused, flashing a miniscule grin before growing serious. "What do you mean, 'Jack missing'?"

"I mean, Frostbite's missin'!" Bunnymund retorted. "I went lookin' for 'im, but he took off when I caught sight of 'im. North, somethin' ain't right about this."

North hummed for a moment, stroking his beard and narrowing his blue eyes for a moment. "It would seem that it is time to summon the others."

o-o-o-o

Jack shivered in the biting, frigid winds, blankly staring at the gruesome piece of artwork that he and Pitch had unknowingly created during their confrontation. His staff was hanging limply from his fingers, almost falling from them as he allowed himself to be swallowed by the cold.

True, it was less likely for an immortal to die, but even they weren't immune to injury or sickness.

He couldn't take these emotions anymore. He couldn't take the uncertainty, or the pain, or the fear. He had to get away from it all.

Staring down at his bare feet, Jack thought back on the past. How he had woken, all of those years ago, surfacing from the lake that had previously been his downfall. How he had wandered for years, his heart slowly closing off and becoming as cold and desolate as the barren wastelands that he stood upon now. How no one could see him, feel him, hear his desperate pleas for someone to acknowledge that he was real.

It would only take one.

One thing to upset the delicate balance that he had hung in for far too long now.

Already, he could feel his thoughts slowing, the world beginning to fade as he closed himself off from thinking.

He leapt into the winds, allowed it to take him high, higher than he had ever been before, felt the air thin, and felt sudden peace. No one could touch him up here. He was immune to Pitch's taunts, and tormenting. Immune to the people who had scoffed at his name, said it with scorn as the cold came upon their lives, unable to live up to the expectations being forced down his throat. The list continued on and on, but he couldn't find it in himself to care any longer.

It was all about to end. About to disappear, like he was.

A small smile tugged at his lips as he closed his eyes.

"_Good-bye."_ he whispered as he released the wind, sending himself plummeting back towards the earth.

Finally, he would be free.

The wind caressed him like a lover, touching him but no longer holding him up, no longer bearing his weight upon its loyal current.

He simply ceased to exist in the moments that ticked away as he flew through the sky, free falling, feeling nothing but peace.

He opened his eyes, seeing the snowy surface of the earth approaching, and allowed himself one last grin.

He had bested Pitch.

He was free.

Everything went black.


	5. Chapter 5

**I love you all. Really, I do. I checked my inbox and I nearly had a heart attack. **

**Last chapter was a bit of a mean one, I'll admit. But, there's fluff in this one, so maybe you'll all forgive me? Oh, and I'm trying to write longer chapters so I can spread out my updates. Let me know what you think?**

**And on a final note...I suggest listening to What's Left of Me by Nick Lachey for each chapter, considering the fic is based off of it. **

**Warning: There is a lot of angst and hurt in this fic.**

**Disclaimer: I do not own Rise of the Guardians. **

**Summary: He had always been alone, always taken care of himself. Why would anything change now?**

o-o-o-o

_He had bested Pitch. _

_He was free. _

_Everything went black. _

_He was drowning again, this time in the cold. He felt himself slowly melting under some kind of pressure. He felt as though he were on fire. _

_He opened his mouth, but choking was the only sound he could make._

_"Did you really think that something like that would enable you to hide from me, Jack?" Pitch hissed, his voice sounding as though it were coming from all directions. "Foolish, foolish child."_

_Jack heaved against the ground, his empty stomach giving him nothing to throw back up. He was shivering now, his teeth nearly chattering. _

_"You nearly killed yourself, you foolish child." _

_"I couldn't..risk..them.." Jack growled through his shivering. _

_"Risk what? Finding out the truth? That their precious new Guardian has been doing nothing but keeping secrets from them?" Pitch snarled, his shadow dust whipping around Jack's motionless form in agitated patterns. "It's too late, Jack. You've sealed their fates, and yours."_

_"No!" he howled back, rage blazing in his blue eyes as he shoved himself to his feet. "Leave them out of this." _

_"Oh Jack. I already told you. It's too late."_

_Images formed from the shadow dust. Images of North and Tooth and Sandy and Bunny, all of them flickering by so quickly that he could barely keep up with them. He could see the infamous Easter blizzard of '68 moving in, the rage on Bunnymund's features when he realized who had done it. _

_Sandman, being swallowed in the ring of shadow dust, the Nightmares circling like starving dogs. _

_Tooth, her features crumbling as her Baby Teeth were ripped away from her, unable to do anything. _

_North, his face set in a frown as he watched emotionlessly as Jack was exiled from their circle. All he had wanted was to belong..but he had screwed everything up. He had endangered everyone because of his stupidity and recklessness. He had been unable to rescue the Baby Teeth because there had been someone calling his name. His sister. He couldn't remember anything about her. He didn't even remember her name, even after playing his memories in front of his own eyes. _

_He'd had a family, once upon a time. But the family broke apart and disappeared into the sands of time, unable to be recovered. _

_He didn't dare hope that he would be accepted into the Guardians circle. He knew that he was worthless, had known for a long time that he was incapable of doing anything right in the eyes of the other immortals that wandered the world. _

_"Why?" _

_Pitch's eyes glared balefully at him from the darkness. _

_"You took everything from me, Jack. I think it's time that I come back to do the same. And this time, you won't be able to stop me."_

_Jack's eyes narrowed, and he growled lowly, baring his teeth. "I refuse to let you win." he snarled. "I'll kill you before you hurt any of them." _

_"Oh, Jack. I never said that I would be the one to hurt them, did I? No, you're doing that all on your own." Pitch replied, his voice coated in amusement. "After all, they only ever worry when you do something reckless. And what do you know? You've just accomplished your most reckless event yet." _

_Jack felt his eyes widen at Pitch's words, a flash of clarity slamming into him like a brick. _

_"No.." he whispered in horror, gaping at the now visible Nightmare King. "NO!"_

_"Yes, Jack." Pitch spread his arms, palms upright. "You've doomed them all."_

o-o-o-o

Bunnymund knew that he probably shouldn't leave the Guardians on their own to scour the Earth without his help, but Bunnymund had a suspicion that he knew exactly where Jack was.

With a quick word to North that he would arrive back at the North Pole within the hour, he was off, creating one of his tunnels to take him to the bitter cold of the Antarctic. Of course, he wasn't even close to wanting to enjoy the snow. Especially due to the fact that it was absolutely freezing out in the air and it would take only minutes for him to freeze like a popsicle.

_"JACK!"_ he roared into the biting winds, his fur just barely keeping the cold at bay. His eyes worriedly scanned what landscape he could see, but he caught no glimpse of the familiar Winter Spirit. _"JACK! ARE YOU HERE!?"_

There was no reply, but the Pooka wasn't really expecting one. What with Jack's odd behavior and the way he continually disappeared into what seemed to be thin air and all.

Cautiously moving further away from his tunnel, Bunnymund allowed it to close, noting that he could simply make another one. Besides, the one he had taken would simply get filled up with all the snow that was shirling around. Although he had to admit, he couldn't understand why Jack would come to this frostbitten plane of nothing. Other than to be alone, because this was the Winter Spirit's kind of weather. Which sucked. Because not a lot of things could stay in the cold for long. Tooth and himself, just to name a couple. Sandman was usually unaffected, as was North, considering that he made his home in the North Pole and all.

Oh yes. This was much colder and much less inhabitable than the North Pole, therefore making it the logical choice for Jack to escape to when needed.

_"Mate, where are you?" _Bunnymund whispered into the wind, continuing on into the furious blizzard that threatened to swallow him.

o-o-o-o

"Oh..North, where do you think he could be?" Toothiana chirped nervously, peering out the sides of the sleigh as it tore through the sky. "I have a bad feeling that something happened to him.."

Sandman nodded in agreement, his own face switching to one of concern as pictures shaped above his head. However, North was a man on a mission, and wasn't really paying attention to the small man, instead focusing on looking for the Winter Spirit while driving the sleigh.

"Jack is very withdrawn." the Russian replied. "Make sense if Jack hid somewhere that matched that."

"But where could he go?" Tooth nearly wailed, feathers drooping. Sandman patted her awkwardly, trying to sooth the female's depressed state. It didn't appear to do much, considering that she was still rather loud and concerned. At this rate, she was going to start molting because of the stress.

"You not listen to what I say?" North snorted. "Jack somewhere alone. Cold, too."

"But- that could be anywhere! It's the beginning of winter!" Tooth screeched in a panic.

"Tooth, sit down and shush." North grumbled. "Like eardrums intact, thank you. Jack most likely at South Pole. Very cold. No one there."

Sandman shuddered. He wasn't particularly fond of the cold. North was really the only one of the Guardians who didn't care about the cold, as he lived in the North Pole. He'd gotten used to the frigid temperatures a long time ago. Not to mention that he was the Guardian of Wonder. He'd always loved the snow.

"So, where are we going, exactly?" Tooth asked warily.

"South Pole of course. Need to find Jack." North replied absently, flicking the reins again to speed the reindeer up.

"But it's cold!"

"There is snow. Of course is cold." North retorted, rolling his eyes. "What, you expect warm?"

o-o-o-o

_"Jack." _

_Jack shifted, hissing at the fiery sensation that rippled along his skin as he did so. _

_"Ah, so you're awake after all. I could not be certain." Pitch hummed, bending to place a hand on his fevered skin. Jack wanted to wrench himself away, but found himself unable to. It was as if an invisible force was holding him there, unable to do anything to escape this nightmare. _

_He winced as he pulled himself to his feet, weary and wary of the man standing before him. He wasn't about to start trusting him now. This nightmare was just as real as anything else he'd been through. He wasn't about to bow down now. He had to stay strong, even if inwardly he wished that he was dead. _

_Unless this was death? Eternal torment from the Nightmare King didn't sound like much of an afterlife to him. _

_"You are so predictable, Jack." Pitch murmured in his ear, moving suddenly. "Always posing as the hero, always trying to gain attention.." _

_"Coming from you." Jack spat back in defense. "No one believes in you." _

_There was a sharp hiss, as though he'd physically slapped the other man, and then there was the suffocating heat and shadows that came down upon him like a wave. Jack choked on it, the foul, heat filled substance filling his already burning lungs. _

_He was on fire, everthing was burning and searing and it was all he could do not to drown in the pain that was washing over him in waves. All he wanted was for it to stop, to end, but it continued on like an endless circle. _

_He felt himself fading away. First his fingers, quickly followed by the rest of himself. And yet, the pain continued throughout the entire ordeal, as if it were incapable of pausing if only for a moment. Then again, this was Pitch that he was dealing with. He hadn't fought fairly at all in the time that he had had to learn about the Nightmare King._

_He finally felt the pain ebbing, though the heat was steadily still growing stronger. _

_And then he surfaced. _

o-o-o-o

His instincts were on red alert as he bolted upright, a second later nearly screaming at the pain that flew through his veins.

"Whoa there Frostbite." a gentle voice said urgently. Something pressed against him, and he hissed at the touch as agony spread out from his ribcage.

He tried to focus on his surroundings, tried to suppress the uncontrollable fear that was overriding all logical thought and making him see everything in a fuzzy, distorted way.

He was hurt. And he could feel it.

Therefore, the logical situation declared that he stay, heal, rest, and overall try not to have a panic attack. However, his overriding instincts that he had built up over the years was screaming at him to run and to hide. After all, he'd done it plenty of times before now.

Then again, the 'plenty of times' before hadn't been quite this serious, and at the moment Jack highly doubted that he would even be able to move his nose, let alone his legs.

"Sorry, mate."

Jack focused for several minutes on the voice. Bunnymund?

"Try not to move, Jack. You're seriously injured." he continued, his eyes trying to convey his concern. The only problem was that Jack looked far too confused and scared to even be understanding what the Pooka was saying. "You understand me, mate?"

Jack blinked, processing vaguely what Bunnymund was saying but not quite fulling comprehending exactly what. He shifted, slightly, before groaning and toppling backward with a whimper, his entire body burning with fever.

_"Ah, crap. That can't be good."_ was the last thing he heard before he succumbed back to the sleep...and the nightmares.


	6. Chapter 6

**Hello, my lovelies. Another update, relatively quickly in comparison to my usual habits. Then again, I did go see the movie again...so that might have something to do with it. (Not.)**

**Sorry for the late update. School was finishing up, and I caught a small cold. Along with that, there were a bunch of rumors going around about people bringing guns on the last day because it was 'the last day of the world' and all that fun crap. So, expect a little of my frustrations to be showing through this chapter. **

**I would like to put this out there, as I have recieved a couple of mildly concerned reviews about the plot of this fic. No, there isn't going to be a character death. And if there is, I can promise that it won't be Jack or Bunnymund. I only have one in mind, and I can say with all certainty that it isn't any of the Guardians. **

**Warning: There is a lot of angst and hurt in this fic. **

**Disclaimer: I do not own Rise of the Guardians. **

**Summary: He had always been alone, always taken care of himself. Why would anything change now?**

o-o-o-o

_He stood above the crumpled form of the Winter Spirit, his lips pressed into a thin line. _

_He could not understand why this pathetic child continued to defy him. He had given him ample opportunity to join him, rule the world together. Why was it that he could not see the reasoning behind it? Why was he refusing, every single time, even as he doubted the words of the Guardians that supposedly were to protect him?_

_He felt himself growing in power, although to him it felt as though it were happening in slow motion. He was nearly ready to topple the mighty, and this time, he was far more dangerous than anyone could imagine. _

o-o-o-o

Bunnymund was beginning to worry. In fact, he was beginning to think that being around Tooth was rubbing off on him.

Jack was in bad shape. And by bad shape, he meant that it looked like the Winter Spirit had wrestled with the wrong end of a snowblower. His face was flushed, though he couldn't quite tell with the black bruises that bloomed everywhere on his slight frame. Dried blood was still matted in his hair, a mysterious injury that puzzled the Pooka no matter which way he looked at it.

He was so afraid for the boy laying on the moss in his warren. So very, very afraid.

He'd arrived via tunnel to the place that he'd heard of only from Jack, and had nearly made himself a bunny pancake on the giant icy sculpture that loomed above him. Not to mention that he'd nearly had a heart attack from just looking at the damned thing.

He'd heard the sound of something falling through the air: his ears were still as fine tuned as ever, despite the biting winds that threatened to take off a layer of fur. And he'd just barely caught a glimpse of the plummeting figure when his body went into overdrive on instinct.

Launching himself across the frozen ground, he leapt straight into the path that the Winter Spirit was taking, hoping that he would be in time, hoping that he could save him.

Pain had registered in his ribs and shoulders as Jack crashed into him, slamming them both into the ice that had been concealed by the snow. And holy easter eggs, did Jack have a thin body. Even with the muscle that he had built up over time, Jack was far too light than he should have been. (Although that didn't seem to stop him from slamming into him like a brick wall)

Bunnymund had barely managed to drag them both through his tunnels to get back to his warren: the one place that he knew would be safe from anything that may want to hurt either himself or Jack. Everything had hurt. And when he said everything, he meant _everything_. It had felt as though he'd been submerged in ice-cubes for hours before thrown into North's fireplace. Stinging, awful pain that lanced through every limb, originating from his torso.

Now, previous injuries and experience told him that he probably had a few ribs cracked or broken, along with a fractured shoulder from where he'd landed, along with various other aches and pains.

But nothing could even come close to the agony that Jack had to be feeling. He couldn't blame him for passing out again simply from touching his chest, however gentle he had been. From what he could tell, Jack had to have even more broken bones than he did. But it didn't necessarily mean that it was true. The Man in the Moon worked in stange ways. And because he'd chosen Jack to be a Guardian, it was highly unlikely that he was about to let the newest and youngest member die on his watch.

He could only hope that Frostbite would pull through, one way or another.

o-o-o-o

_Tossing, turning, tumbling down._

_The darkness snapped at him, all directions, relentless in their taunting. _

_He couldn't find it in himself to care: he'd resigned himself to the fact that there was no escape from this Hell, no freedom from the Nightmare King that he'd come to loathe even more than he had before. _

_All there was was pain and taunts and guilt. _

_He remained curled up, protecting himself from what he could, allowing himself to drift wherever he was taken. Why would he care? There was no way out of a nightmare: not when Pitch was directly puppeting it. _

_Blank eyes stared out, their depths endless as images continued to flash before him: breaking down what walls that still remained stubbornly, standing against the forces that were pounding against them. They were deteriorating quickly, and he knew it. Pitch knew it. Everyone knew it. There was no way for him to stop it. _

_That was the mantra that continued to loop itself through his mind. Impossible, hopeless, useless, annoyance. With every word, an image pierced through it like an arrow, burying itself deeply into his mind. _

_Until one image stayed. _

_Bunnymund. _

_Here, in the nightmare, he could remember every detail about everything that he knew about the Pooka. He remembered that he was an unstoppable force: one that refused to bow down, even when everything seemed lost. It was something that he secretly looked up to. Bunnymund could stay strong when those around him needed help. Unlike him. He was a coward, someone who would give up so easily when one simple thought disrupted his confidence. _

_Bunnymund was there for him. He had stayed when he needed the comfort he so desperately craved, even though it had no doubt thrown him partially out of his comfort zone. He listened to what he had to say, knowing that the Pooka wouldn't tell anyone unless he was asked to. _

_He stood by his side, however briefly. And he was grateful to him for that small sacrifice. _

_But it still wasn't enough. _

_Pitch was still going to find him, find all of them, and pluck them out of the game one by one. _

_And that was what scared him the most. _

o-o-o-o

Thankfully, the next time he awoke, he was lying still. There was a stiffness that was settled in his bones, and he could feel it as he blinked.

There was also a gentle touch combing through his hair, slow, quiet breathing coming from somewhere close by.

Blinking wearily, he turned his head ever so slightly, startled to see none other than Bunnymund next to him. Well, part of him. From what he could tell, the Pooka was curled around him, and his paw was threading itself through his snowy hair, even though his eyes were closed.

It brought a small smile to his lips, unbidden, to see the Pooka so relaxed. It was a little unnerving at the same time. The only times Jack had ever even glimpsed the Pooka this calm were the times that he interacted with the children. Even though those were rare, he remembered them all the same. It suited him more, in a sense. There was something appealing about the way that the gruff Pooka could loosen up and allow himself to relax, however vaguely.

Shifting slightly, he bit down hard on his lip, feeling every nerve scream in protest at the small motion.

"Ah wouldn't advise you move too much, mate." the tired voice of the Pooka murmured from somewhere near his ear. The paw still groomed his hair, slowly, soothingly, and the rumble from his chest spread to Jack as he said them. "You're in pretty bad shape."

"I can tell." he croaked back, wincing at the jagged scratching feeling that ran itself up and down his windpipe.

"Shh." Bunnymund rumbled again, heat spreading from his form to Jack's as he shifted. "Just go back to sleep, mate. Ah'm not goin' anywhere."

"'Kay.." Jack blinked, already feeling lethargic as he yawned lightly, ignoring the pain that was sending signals through his body. "Don' leave.." he mumbled back as he found himself automatically relaxing in the Pooka's odd half embrace.

"Ah won't." he replied faintly as he closed his eyes again, allowing his battered body to lapse back into a dreamless sleep.

o-o-o-o

_He felt himself pacing the floor. _

_Damn them all, he couldn't reach the boy!_

_A frustrated snarl ripped from his throat as he lashed out at the stone walls that surrounded him, caging him into the damp, dark cavernous city that lived deep below the ground. _

_Nightmares scattered as his violent amber gaze landed upon them, whinnying their cries of alarm to their fellows as they disappeared from his sight. Sighing, he rubbed his forehead, taking a deep breath in order to calm himself down. He would not allow his rage to consume him. It had been his downfall once before, and it could very well happen again if he did not take the appropriate measures. _

_"They have hidden him from me." he hissed, flicking his gaze to the one nightmare that refused to leave his side. She was by far the most loyal and most ruthless of his herd, and for that, he allowed her to follow him as though she were some lost pup. He didn't particularly mind. _

_Shifting uneasily under the blank stare, the nightmare rumbled in her chest, her own turmoiled gaze meeting his own in a silent question. _

_What would happen now?_

_"They cannot hide forever." he mused, reaching out to stroke her neck, which shifted and turned below his palms, the shadowy dust cool. "They will eventually bring him out from wherever they are keeping him, and then we will strike. The fools." he crooned, continuing to rub the nightmare as he spoke. "They think that sealing me in the dark will dim my fear, my power. How wrong they are."_

_Sensing the darkness that roiled around their master, the nightmares returned, their eyes the only color in the shadows that lingered in the cavern. "Those infernal Guardians have interfered for the last time. And soon, they, along with the entire world, will once again and forevermore know the fear that is the Nightmare King, Pitch Black." _

_Turning, his eyes settled upon the giant metal globe, warped and dark. A cruel smiled warped his ashen skin, fangs bared in a threatening sneer. _

_"Including that damned child, Jack Frost."_


	7. Chapter 7

**Hello everyone! Did you all enjoy your holiday? I apologize for the late update, but it's that time of year, so I've been kept busy with family dinners and all that other fun stuff that comes around. **

**I've been feeling kind of crappy lately, and the fact that I'm trying to get my own original story started isn't helping me any. But I'm so very grateful to you all for sticking with me. **

**By the way, fluff is in this one. **

**Warning: There is a lot of angst and hurt in this fic.**

**Disclaimer: I do not own Rise of the Guardians. **

**Summary: He had always been alone, always taken care of himself. Why would anything change now?**

o-o-o-o

North was pacing in his workshop, all thoughts of toys put out of his mind for the moment.

Toothiana had had to leave almost as soon as they had arrived back from their search for Jack, although she wished that she didn't have to. But, unlike North and Bunnymund, she had to get back to work immediately. After all, kids didn't just stop losing teeth.

Sandy, on the other hand, still had a while before he had to go out again, and was watching the Russian pace with worry crossing his golden features.

North was wondering where Bunnymund had disappeared to. The Pooka had said he was going his own way to search for the Winter Spirit, and hadn't been heard from since. Was it possible that he'd found Jack?

"Aha!" he bellowed triumphantly, fishing out one of his snowglobes from a pocket. "He must be at Warren! Bunny must have found him!"

Sandy brightened. It was more logical to assume that Bunnymund had found Jack instead of someone else. Though he couldn't quite think of anyone else that could have found the elusive teen. Bunnymund and Jack seemed to share some kind of bond that none of the other Guardians did, and it was obvious that Bunny was concerned over Jack's health. Personally, the little Guardian thought that it was cute.

That, and it was doing Bunny a world of good as well. The Pooka was a little less gruff than he had been to Jack, and smiled a bit more, though Sandy was pretty sure that he was the only one that noticed. No one really payed much attention to him anyway.

He was snapped out of his thoughts by North throwing the snowglobe and turning to stare at Sandy. "You stay here. Guard workshop. I be back soon!" the man cheerfully yelled before leaping into the portal, which closed as soon as his foot disappeared through.

Sandy frowned.

Why was he always left out of the cool stuff?

o-o-o-o

Jack was dozing fitfully when he felt Bunnymund shift under him. It was gentle, however, so that it didn't jar either of their injuries, and the Pooka was suddenly gone, warm moss the only sign that he had even been laying there.

He sighed, half asleep, and slowly curled himself into a semi more comfortable position before he went back to dozing.

o-o-o-o

Bunnymund stepped on the moss silently, his nose flaring and his ears pricked for any sign of sound. There was something here, in _his _Warren, and damned be if he didn't defend it.

He froze as his ears caught the sound of footsteps. Heavy, and coming his way.

Slowly, he drew his boomerang, readying himself to throw it as he edged his way around a large stone outcropping, eyes surveying what little he could. The stone easter eggs were lumbering around as usual, their carved faces covered in moss. Usually, the sight would bring a smile to his face, but now, it only made him warier. If there was something unfriendly wandering around his Warren, it likely meant that it was after Jack.

And that was something he could not allow. No one was going to even touch Jack while under his watch.

He ducked down as the heavy footfalls suddenly grew close before falling silent.

Bunnymund struck. Whirling from behind his hiding place, he hurled his boomerang towards his target. Seconds later, he realized that it was North that he'd attacked as the the large man ducked.

"What are you doin' here?"

"Well-" North started before the returning boomerang caught him on the return trip. With a yell, he stumbled forward, looking mildly dazed.

"You really should have seen that one coming." he stated coolly, catching the boomerang and putting it back in its holder in a single smooth movement that had come from years of practice.

"Well..didn't." North mumbled as he used a rock nearby to pull himself back to his feet.

"Obviously."

His stance remained tense, paws planted firmly apart from one another. He eyed up North warily, even as he shifted into a more comfortable position, before leaning against one of the many moss covered rocks that littered the Warren.

"Jack is here, yes?"

"Maybe, maybe not." Bunnymund shrugged, his tone light. "Depends."

North's face twisted into one of confusion, and he took a step closer to the Pooka, whose paw drifted back towards his boomerang. It was only then that North realized that Bunnymund's torso was heavily bandaged.

"What happen?" he asked in confusion. "What wrong?"

"Many, many things. And Ah suggest you don't come any closer. Ah'm a little stressed out right now." Bunnymund said lightly, paw moving a little closer to a boomerang. "In fact, Ah suggest you leave."

North was quickly becoming more concerned for the condition of Bunnymund's mentality. Holding his hands up in a peace offering of sorts, he backed up, not taking his eyes off of the Pooka. "I will leave Jack in your care, Bunnymund. Be careful, old friend."

Bunnymund allowed himself a small smirk. "Ah ain't old, North, and you know it."

"Until next time." North smiled back.

"Yeha." Bunnymund scoffed with an odd accent. "Now get out of here before Ah change mah mind."

He didn't have to tell the large man twice. With a shrug, North rummaged around his jacket for a moment before coming back up with a snowglobe. Whispering his destination into the empty air, he tossed it ahead of him, the usual portal opening its colorful maw as it awaited him.

Bunnymund didn't move for at least several minutes after he was gone, and it was only then that he turned his back and made his way back to Jack.

o-o-o-o

His hair was still plastered against his forehead, skin still flushed in an unhealthy manner when he returned. He was curled up on one side, in the fetal position, his staff near his hands as it always seemed to be.

Sighing, Bunnymund brushed back his hair from his forehead with a gentle paw before leaning down to nuzzle his cheek in silent comfort. He wished there was something more that he could do for Jack, but at the moment, this was all that the boy seemed to need. This simple contact that he had was enough for him to thrive on in his fevered state.

Carefully, he curled himself back around the Winter Spirit, knowing that his high body temperature probably wasn't doing him any good with a fever, but knowing that it was beneficial for Jack's mental state.

"Ah don't know what Ah'm doing, Frostbite." he murmured, running a paw through Jack's hair lightly. "But damn it all if Ah let anyone get you again."

o-o-o-o

_He paced the corridor for what seemed to be the thousandth time, his eyes narrowed in thought. He was ready to strike, but he was still unsure as to which of the elder Guardians he dubbed as the most threatening. _

_The Sandman, as he'd experienced, was no doubt one of, if not the most, dangerous, but there was also that blasted rabbit. He was a minor irritance, but he had seen how damned irritating he could be when riled. Especially when it concerned the brat. _

_Toothiana would not be much of a threat. She was too soft, too innocent, to try anything should he target one of the other Guardians. Particularly if it happened to be Sandman or Jack Frost. Or best yet, her Baby Teeth. Ah, she was so easy to manipulate if her precious little ones were in danger. Experience taught him everything that he needed to know about the Guardians. His latest encounter in particular. _

_North and E. Aster would be the most threatening, even above Sandman. They were the designated protectors of the Big Four, and would, without a doubt, cause him the most difficulties when he struck. _

_Which left him with the question: Which should he take down first?_

_The answer struck him almost as soon as the thought came to mind. _

_The rabbit would be the first. North would think it his own fault, and it would cause many issues among himself and Toothiana, with Sandman attempting to right it. But that would still leave Jack Frost hanging as the unpredictable variable. It was nearly impossible to tell what the child would end up doing when he attacked. _

_Summoning one of his Nightmares, he gently murmured words into her ear before sending her off on a mission to discover where the white haired brat was hiding. _

_Even if he was unable to discover the Guardians hiding place, his Nightmares could go far more places with far more subtlety, which was exactly what he needed at the moment. They would be able to infiltrate the Guardians most secret of hideaways with ease, as they had done before, and gain valuable information to bring back to their master. _

_"The wheels are beginning to turn. For the last time." Pitch whispered into the dark that he was surrounded in. "Say good-bye, precious children, to your Guardians."_


	8. Chapter 8

**I'm back already? Why yes, yes I am. It's a miracle, folks. **

**For any of you who are wondering why Bunny was being so hostile to North last chapter, I do have an explanation that you may or may not agree with. Bunnymund is extremely protective of Jack at the moment, and is in a certain semi-permanent state of subconscious 'mama bear' mode. So, even though he realizes that North won't intentionally do anything to harm Jack, he's simply being cautious. That, and the fact that he is also injured, isn't helping with his slight bipolar moods. On top of all of this, since Jack is currently unconscious, (or semi) state, Bunnymund's locked down security on everyone, including the other Guardians. **

**So, if that helps any, I'm glad. If not, oops? **

**A quick shout out to Thaliag.2 for being the hundredth reviewer!**

**Remember to drop me a review at the bottom of the page. What you like, dislike, critisism, anything! I appreciate each and every one of you people who take the time to do so, and it definitely drives me to power out these chapters! **

**Warning: There is a lot of angst and hurt in this fic. **

**Disclaimer: I do not own Rise of the Guardians. **

**Summary: He'd always been alone, always taken care of himself. Why would anything change now?**

o-o-o-o

The Nightmare darted from shadow to shadow, all senses on high alert as her wild eyes surveyed the mossy Warren that housed the ever present rabbit. Her nostrils flared as she caught sight of one of the stone easter eggs that had helped bring the downfall of her master, and she flew into its shadow, hiding her presence to the best of her ability. Fortunately, she had had a great many years to perfect this art, as she had been the first of the Nightmare King's mares.

She remained acutely aware of the fact that if she was found out, she would be on her own. There would be no backup arriving from the remainder of the herd, as they were out on their own missions, readying the world for the newest assault.

Sudden murmurs caught her attention, and she found herself drawn towards the sounds. As far as she could remember, there was no other Guardian that resided other than the Easter Bunny, but it was possible that he had company. She gathered her legs beneath her, and as the stone egg lumbered by a rather large shadow, she leapt for it.

A little known fact about the Nightmares was in fact the startling amount of intelligence they possessed. It was easily able to be compared to that of a human. They were fairly instinctual other than that, relying on their senses to get them where they needed to be. Perhaps that was why they were so heavily feared.

She trotted along the wall, her steps silent on the moss that gently encased her hooves with each long legged step.

The murmurs grew louder as she came to the entrance of a shallow cave, the opening quite tall. Pausing, she breathed in deeply, catching the familiar scents of rain and cold and something sweet that she didn't know the word to describe.

That accomplished, she pressed herself into the walls surface, becoming nothing but another shadow rather than a solid form. It was only then that she slunk in, sticking to the shadowy parts of the small cave seamlessly.

The two figures that she finally caught a sight of brought a sense of smug satisfaction to her chest. The boy that had so often spoke of by her master was lying limply against the moss, the rabbit curled protectively around him as he murmured and brushed his hair out of his eyes. The look that crossed his features was one that the Nightmare didn't recognize. After all, she didn't know what caring or protectiveness were. She had only known fear and pain.

She had to alert her master to this immediately. Turning, she went to leave, but in the process nearly blinded herself with sudden sunlight, which made her stumble with a click against a small rock.

If she could, she would be cursing in several different languages. Picking herself up as fast as she possibly could, she darted into the deepest shadow she could find and melded herself against the stone to become one as the rabbit bolted upright.

She held her breath for what seemed like eternity as the wary creature drew its weapon and slowly made its way through the cave, eyes examining every square inch of surface that he could see. The Nightmare waited, patiently, as this process continued for several minutes. During the entire time, she was waiting for her chance to run, the chance to escape back to her master and share her information, to which she would be rewarded.

Apparently satisfied, the rabbit turned, walking back towards the boy that he so carefully guarded, and the Nightmare took the chance to run.

Thankfully, she wasn't seen, and she bolted from the Warren as quickly as she was physically able.

Yes, her master would want to hear of this news immediately.

o-o-o-o

_His features remained neutral as the Nightmare shared the information she had gathered about the Guardians, waiting until after she had told him everything to feed her the fear that he had absorbed from some of the children nearby. With great care, she nuzzled at his hand with what could be called affection before backing away and disappearing into the shadows that were ever present in the cold, damp city. _

_"So, E. Aster has taken the brat in. This could prove beneficial to my plans, indeed." Pitch murmured to himself, the sound echoing despite the quiet tone he'd taken. "It seems that I will be taking down two birds with one stone."_

_He had to act soon, lest this opportunity be lost. Though from what his Nightmare had told him, the boy wouldn't be going anywhere anytime soon. It didn't matter. This was the final push that he needed to put everything into motion. The Nightmares would be mobilized as soon as they returned from their various missions around the world. There were several that would be staying in the major populated areas, if only for spying and continuing to feed off of their fear and grow stronger. _

_Yes. Now there was only the waiting game. And the Nightmare King could wait a little longer. _

_It would all be worth it in the end. _

o-o-o-o

The Nightmares flew across the skies, their black tails banners as the sand flipped through the slight breeze that lightly disrupted their coats. They had recieved their orders, knew that there was no longer any point in hiding in fear when the entire world would soon be spread out at their hooves.

The moon shone down on them, only amplifying their shadowy ash hue, and then they came upon the golden dust that they had come to thrive upon. The gold spun through the skies gently, looking as soothing as sunbeams as images turned and flitted lightly among it.

The Nightmares dove for the dream dust, their whinnies of triumph echoing in the sky as the golden dream dust lost its hue, turned black as the mares themselves as it continued on its path, the small Guardian that directed it still blissfully unaware that the dust had once again been altered so that the children would not recieve the sweet dreams they thought they would be getting. No, they would be having nightmares, named after the black dust that the Nightmare King had created.

It only took a few moments before they were on their way, continuing their bold flight through the skies.

o-o-o-o

Jack was still groggy when he finally managed to shag the dogged fever that continued to drag him into fevered dreams that made no sense to his confused mind at all. Bunnymund was a frequent occurrence, something that only confused the Winter Spirit more. Was it reality? Or was it memories? Or was it just his sickly imagination creating some kind of new personification of the Pooka?

He didn't know, and he doubted that he would know, for a long while.

His body was in pain, though the comforting presence of Bunnymund was definitely helping his battered and bruised body to stay relaxed at the moment. That, and the soft murmurs that the Pooka continued to whisper as he swept his sweat soaked bangs back from his forehead.

He shifted, trying not to allow himself to whimper as his shoulder and chest throbbed. As if reading his mind, Bunnymund shifted himself so that the Winter Spirit would have a more comfortable position.

Bunnymund was being so very protective and gentle. It barely made any sense to Jack. He'd tried to kill himself. Why was the Pooka trying so hard to keep him alive? All he was doing was keeping everyone in danger. He was a liability, someone who would be considered the weak link in a fight. All he'd done was split the Big Four into different opinions, different directions, because of his reckless and immature actions. He should be dead. But he wasn't.

"Why did you save me?" he asked before realizing that the words had left his lips.

Bunnymund turned his head to look straight into Jack's icy gaze, his own eyes serious, though he was curious behind it all. Why wouldn't he have saved the younger Guardian? Sure, there was the primary thoughts of 'he's another Guardian', but there was something else that he couldn't place. Why had Jack fallen? There was that snagging little thought in the back of his mind that told him that maybe, just maybe, Jack wasn't as okay as everyone seemed to think.

"Ah couldn't let ya die, Frostbite." he murmured in return, keeping up the eye contact. "Yer a Guardian too, now. And Ah've had a feeling that you're not as healthy as everyone else thinks you are."

"That's it, then?" he croaked in reply. "Because I'm another Guardian now?"

"No, that's not it." Bunnymund sighed in return. "Ah'm worried about you, Jack. _Me_. On mah own. No other influence."

Jack was struck silent by that statement. He didn't know what to think by his words. He wasn't familiar with someone actually caring about what happened to him. It was foreign on so many levels that he was sure that he was hallucinating.

His reaction to that, of course, was to stare at the Pooka like he was the one insane rather than him.

"Why?"

Bunnymund found himself wondering why there was such a conflicted look in Jack's eyes as he asked the one word. He found himself pressing his nose against his forehead, the only way that he was able to comfort him at the moment considering that the rest of his body was blotchy and bruised.

"Ah don't know, Frostbite. But Ah know there's a reason out there somewhere." he replied quietly, his eyes looking skyward to the small gaps in the ceiling of the cave that let in the soft sunlight. "Somewhere." he repeated.

Jack shuddered lightly against him as another bout of shivering struck, and all thoughts of conversation were lost as Bunnymund wrapped himself around the Winter Spirit to keep him warm.

He didn't know why he had saved Jack. He honestly didn't. But he knew that eventually he would figure it out. Although he didn't appear to be the brightest of the Guardians, Bunnymund was actually very smart. He could figure out most problems with minimal effort, and he had a feeling that this particular situation had been planned by the Man in the Moon.

"Ah hope he knows what he's doin'." Bunnymund muttered to himself as Jack relaxed against him and began dozing off once again.

o-o-o-o

_"Ready yourselves." Pitch ordered, his tone leaving no room for any protests. Not that his Nightmares would protest against him anyway. They were loyal to a fault, unable to comprehend what should happen if they decided to become seperate from their master. They needed orders, something to keep them busy as they went through their 'lives'. "Soon, the mighty shall fall, and it will be the reign of Pitch Black, the Nightmare King, forevermore." _

_The Nightmares reared, trumpeting their eerie cries of battle as they shifted in the dark, their eyes gleaming with the promise of fear and revenge. They would no longer have to hide in the dark as their master did. They would be able to be as free as the wind as they stold the happiness from the people of the world, ruled it with their towering shadows. _

_"But there is one thing standing in our way." Pitch continued softly, nearly crooning the words into the Nightmares ears as he passed. "The Guardians."_

_A collective silence fell through the cavern, and none of the Nightmares dared to make a sound. Their master's moods could change as quickly as their forms could shift into shadows, and they continued to be wary of the ashen skinned man even now. His amber eyes were nearly sending sparks through the air as he spoke, the hidden rage and regret sounding through the cavernous city unintentionally. _

_"Now, you are all ready. We have been preparing for this day for hundreds of years. You shall not fail me, never shall you fail me. Because should you fail.." he continued for several more steps before whirling, eyes blazing, "Each and every one of you will be destroyed by the Guardians. And I will not stop them." _

_The Nightmare that he had paused by didn't dare even breathe as Pitchstayed there, eyes wild and teeth bared savagely, her eyes gleaming with the fear that they thrived on, ears pinned back as far as they could go. Her back legs were near trembling as the muscles there stiffened, ready for the fight or flight situation that was taking place in front of her. _

_"Now, go. The time is now. Go, my pretty little Nightmares. Go and bring the world to its knees with your fear." _

_He was motionless as the herd of Nightmares surged upwards, their ashen forms vanishing as they disappeared into the faint grey light that shone bleakly high, high up, almost unable to be seen due to how small the light looked from his position on the floor. _

_"It has begun." he smiled, his sharp teeth bared. "By the time the moon has risen, the Guardians will have fallen."_


	9. Chapter 9

**Eh..heh..sorry about the freakishly slow update. I'm trying to find a happy medium for updating for this fic, and I think I'm going to try and update every Friday starting after this update. **

**So, the plot of the fic had finally been revealed! Pitch is back, and this time he's refusing to go down without taking the Guardians with him. The details are still a little fuzzy, so I apologize if I've been confusing any of you. It's not my intentions. **

**Poor Jack. I don't think he's going to be able to much about Pitch. Ah well, guess we'll just have to sit tight and hope, right? Right.**

**Oh, I was bored, so I took a couple of quizzes...Apparently I'm fifty-fifty North and Sandman, and Bunnymund is my Guardian. So...I'm set for life right there. xD**

**And also, Chert Poberi roughly translates to 'The Devil take you', if I'm not mistaken..**

**Warning: There is a lot of angst and hurt in this fic. **

**Disclaimer: I do not own Rise of the Guardians. **

**Summary: He had always been alone, always taken care of himself. Why would anything change now?**

o-o-o-o

North was humming to himself as he happily worked his way through a chunk of ice with his chainsaw, the man completely at ease with the world for the moment. His concerns for Jack safely set aside, he was focused only on working on the toys in the ice.

He could see the wondrous shapes that were beginning to form in the surface of the ice as he continued to shape it, coaxing it to come to life with the wonder that danced in his eyes and fingertips.

He was so engrossed in his work that he didn't even notice the Nightmares until it was too late.

The glass of the windows exploded, sending shards of it everywhere. North bellowed as the black sand crashed down like a tidal wave, grabbing for his scimitars and whirling around, the blades passing through the Nightmares bodies like they were nothing but paper.

_"Chert poberi!" _he snarled as he tore through the Nightmares with a savagery that came far too naturally to him. His features were stony as he roared out war cries, tearing through the murky creatures to try and get to the main hall of his workshop. He had to make sure that the Yeti were safe, or at the very least fighting back. The poor things sometimes were far too fearful of such things as these.

However, before he could reach the doors, they slammed open, and another crushing wave of black sand poured in, overwhelming North and dragging him out on its own. He felt something bite into his side, but gave it no heed, intent on hacking anything that got in his way to pieces. This was his home, his most secret and protected of places, and damn it all to the darkest pits of Hell if he allowed these damned creatures of darkness to win.

Yelling, he writhed in the painful, icy grip that the sand had on his legs and lower torso, his arms the only limbs he was able to move. Lashing out, he took note of the ledge that was coming up, but was unable to do anything about the impending fall he was about to take.

Unless...

His eyes narrowed as his mind struggled to formulate some kind of plan that may or may not warn the other Guardians, but before he could do much, he found himself airborn.

He could see the globe coming at him quickly, and he braced himself the best he could before colliding with the metal surface. The wind was knocked out of him instantly, and then there was another fall to the ground, to which he felt something in his leg shatter on impact. Gritting his teeth, he struggled to stand, scimitars still clenched in his hands, refusing to back down now. Eyes flickering over to the control board, he honed in on the familiar button that he would be able to warn the Guardians with. But he only had seconds to act before the Nightmares came back around for another attack.

North lunged, the scimitar adding the extra length that he needed, and the flat of the blade hammered home.

All he could do now was hope that the others saw the Northern Lights in time.

o-o-o-o

Tooth was flittering around her palace when her Baby Teeth suddenly screamed and scattered in a panic. Her eyes widening, she froze as she saw the giant wave of black sand barrelling towards her and her Teeth.

"Scatter!" she screamed before diving, aiming for the familiar opening that lead to the open air. If she and her Teeth could get out into the open, they would stand more of a chance than if they stayed. Even though they knew every nook and cranny, the Nightmares had managed to attack them all before with terrifying precision. However, Tooth had been planning hundreds of thousands of escape routes should any incident like the one that had taken away everything from her happen again, and she had drilled them into the Baby Teeth until they could do them in their sleep.

The Baby Teeth scattered, going for their designated escape routes, which Tooth had made for them to escape should the need arise. At this point, it was a safe assumption that this was one of those times.

The Nightmares dove after Tooth, few branching out to go after the Baby Teeth. It was clear that Toothiana was their target when the frantic woman whirled in the air, only seeing the wave of them as they crashed down upon her helpless form, smothering her with the chill of their fear.

o-o-o-o

Sandman was nudging his dream sand through the air with a look of concentration on his golden features when he caught the glimpse of the Northern Lights. Silently, he looked at the lights, then back at the town below him, torn by the decision he had to make. He _hated _it when North interuppted his nights like this, but duty calls. He finished up the current dreams before his golden cloud reformed itself into the plane that he knew like the back of his hand. Manifesting the goggles, he planted them firmly over his eyes before steering it towards the North, his mouth set in a frown.

What could North be wanting the Guardians for?

Unfortunately, he realized all too soon what the problem was. He felt the familiar and unpleasant sensation of cold creeping up his spine, and he turned in his seat to see a wave of Nightmares coming towards him.

A look of determination crossed his face, and he pulled the plane into a steep curve, readying himself to battle against the mares once again. He would not forget the feeling of being swallowed by their darkness, their shadows, their fear and hate, for as long as he lived. But he refused to be reduced to that state again. He would not allow himself to fail the younger Guardians that he was tasked to protect. He was the oldest Guardian, the first that the Man in the Moon had chosen, and he was the one that was tasked with the most important mission: protect the Guardians. Regardless of the fact that he was a Guardian himself, he cracked his knuckles, a dark grin crossing his face as he readied himself to exact a little revenge on the Nightmares.

o-o-o-o

Bunnymund was dozing next to Jack when he felt the shift in the air. A split second later, and the world exploded into chaos.

Black everywhere, smothering him, worming its way into his lungs and choking him as he grabbed for his egg bombs and throwing them into the shadows that had surrounded himself and the Winter Spirit. The momentary lapse in the wall of the Nightmares revealed the sunlight outside of the cave, however fleeting. Inwardly cursing, he grabbed Jack and slung him over one shoulder, ignoring the Winter Spirit's pained whimper. "Sorry Frostbite, but this is gonna hurt." he warned as he moved, suddenly, like lightning. His boomerang flew through the air with deadly accuracy, bringing down an entire line of the dark creatures before another took their place. A small sliver of doubt crept into his heart before he shook it off.

Jack was slowly becoming more aware as pain woke his comatose mind from slumber, and he registered the fact that there was _danger _and _fear _and _cold _everywhere around him. Fear instantly overtook him, and he felt himself suddenly feel drained. The Nightmares were feeding off of his fear as he shivered against Bunnymund's warm shoulder, his body protesting at every breath.

Bunnymund was like a hurricane as he leapt and dodged, the fact that Jack was on his shoulder not bothering him in the least as his powerful hind legs launched him through the air smoothly. The Pooka was as deadly as his weapons as he tore through the Nightmares, his face grim. He had to protect Jack. He had to get the Winter Spirit to safety.

The Nightmares swarmed, their minds set on their masters orders. They would destroy the Guardians once and for all, and then live freely, feeding off of the fear that would spread like wildfire in the world.

o-o-o-o

_He felt them fall, one by one. Their lights simply flickered out in his mind, light candles that die at the end of the night. He felt a savage grin cross his features, and he leaned his head back, basking in his victory. They were falling. There were only two left of the five. _

_"And they too, shall have their ending come. Soon enough." Pitch chuckled lowly, his amber eyes gleaming as he awaited his moment. _

o-o-o-o

Jack felt himself being swung around as the chill of the Nightmares continued to seep into his pores, making him shiver. Bunnymund was still a steady rock below him, and he pressed himself against his shoulder the best he could. He willed his limbs to move, to run and get away, floating on the wind or battling with the ice that he didn't know he could wield until the time called upon him.

He wanted to help Bunnymund. He hated feeling this useless. Sure, the feeling wasn't unfamiliar to him, considering all that he'd been through, but he had grown to strongly dislike it each time that he was put into that kind of situation.

The Winter Spirit yelped as something hit his legs, and he grit his teeth as he turned his head to meet the gleaming eyes of a Nightmare.

Bunnymund was quick to notice that the source of Jack's pain was right behind him, and his boomerang lashed out twice; so quickly that the Nightmare didn't stand a chance against it.

But they were quickly being overwhelmed under the growing numbers of the Nightmares, and Jack could tell by the slight shaking of Bunnymund's shoulder that he wasn't going to be able to hold all of the Nightmares off forever.

Bunnymund also knew this, and he was internally cursing as he whirled, trying to find a way out that wouldn't involve both himself and Jack perishing in the onslaught of the blasted Nightmares that just refused to give up, even as their kin fell to him. Jack's weight, usually feather light, was now beginning to feel like a boulder, and his stamina was definitely taking a hit.

"Hold on, Frostbite." he ground out as the most obvious of the answers flew into his mind. "This is gonna be a bumpy ride."

Tightening his hold on Jack's torso, Bunnymund gathered his hind legs beneath him and ducked down for a moment before launching himself straight up through one of the gaps in between the stones that created the cave. As he landed, he tapped a paw onto the stone twice, lunging into the welcome darkness that enclosed himself and Jack.

His breathing was heavy as his ears twisted and turned, straining to pick up even the slightest sound that could set him off. When he didn't, however, he barely relaxed. It would be better if he remained on guard for the time being.

"Ow." Jack muttered, prodding Bunnymund with an elbow as he tried shifting himself into a more comfortable position. On autopilot, Bunnymund gently placed Jack on his own two feet, ears and ears continuing to be on alert.

"Thanks." Jack rasped, shaking slightly from the cool draft that always seemed to be present in Bunnymund's tunnels. Although he was unsteady on his feet, the Winter Spirit tried to hold his own by leaning lightly against the wall of the tunnel, his breathing light compared to Bunnymund's harsh pants.

It was right about then that the Winter Spirit realized that his staff was nowhere to be seen. Dread clutching at his heart, he twisted, eyes straining to see through the dark, praying that there was some mistake.

Bunnymund tensed up as he heard Jack shifting around, and the teen looked at him with something akin to horror.

"My staff." he whispered, blue eyes wild.

Bunnymund froze as he too, realized that Jack's staff was nowhere to be seen. It was still in the Warren, lying on the bed of moss that the Winter Spirit had been occupying for the last several days.

"_Shit_." the Pooka swore, hitting the tunnel with a clenched paw. "Frostbite, I'm sorry. We can't go back. The Nightmares are probably waitin' for us to come back out."

Jack looked as though he were about to fall into hysterics. "We have to go back!" he yelled desperately, suddenly searching the walls for an exit. "You don't know what he can do with my staff!"

A chill filled Bunnymund's stomach as he slowly turned his gaze to Jack. "_He?_"

Jack nodded, tears of frustration building in his eyes as he looked miserably at the Pooka. "Pitch."

"Pitch is back?" Bunnymund whispered, eyes widening. North. Tooth. Sandy.

"We've gotta go, Frostbite. Now." Bunnymund stated, grabbing the slight Guardian and settling him comfortably on his back. "Hold on tight."

Jack did as he was told, though there was some anger in his gaze as he clung to the long fur on the back of Bunnymund's neck. Said Pooka lunged forward, falling onto all fours as he darted through the tunnel. If Pitch was back, it meant that he was coming after the Guardians again. And if that happened, all hope was lost. And through hope, he would slowly fade to nothing.

He felt his shoulders tremble at the thought. He could _not_, under _any _circumstances, allow Pitch to win this war.

o-o-o-o

The workshop was silent as Jack pushed open the giant doors, his teeth gritted with the effort behind it.

Everything was covered with a layer of black dust, the room bleak without the usual bright colors and the yeti hard at work. Papers littered the floor, and as Bunnymund and Jack stepped into it, the light wind had them scattering lazily.

Bunnymund's face was neutral as he studied the carnage that had been left behind, but Jack could very clearly see the tension lining the Pooka's shoulders. Rubbing a hand down his arm, he shivered at the cold temperature. It was so different than what he had come to know here, and he felt his heart drop as he realized that _he _had done this. He thought that he could hold Pitch off from his nightmares.

"Did you know?" Bunnymund's soft voice asked him suddenly. The Pooka was standing before the giant metal globe, a paw placed gently on its surface as he looked up at the tiny dots that still faintly glowed.

"I thought-" Jack flinched as Bunnymund's hollow stare pinned him in place, but swallowed and continued, "I thought that they were only nightmares. I didn't know that he was going to come back."

"You should have told someone." Bunnymund said lowly, his tone turning dangerous. "Even if they were _just nightmares_."

Jack bit his lip, looking down, looking anywhere but at the Pooka. "I know."

Bunnymund snorted, and then he was moving towards the Winter Spirit, purpose clear in his strides. Jack cringed, expecting a blow to come down upon him, but there was nothing but warmth as the Pooka's enveloped him in a gentle embrace. His heart was beating soothingly under Jack's ear, and his voice was grieved as he spoke.

"It wasn't your fault, Jack. No one could have predicted this."

Jack shook his head. It _was _his fault. Why couldn't Bunnymund understand? He had done this to them. _He _was the reason that they were gone, and now he and Bunnymund were being hunted down. Pitch wouldn't risk two Guardians running loose in the world. And by now it was almost certain that he possessed his staff. Instinctually, Jack shuddered, remembering the last time that Pitch had gotten his hands on it. How his world had exploded into pain and his chest had felt like it was being torn in half. How the dull roar had enveloped him until nothing but unconsciousness remained.

"I'm scared." Jack admitted faintly, burying his face into the Pooka's long fur.

"I know, Frostbite. I know." Bunnymund replied, running his paw through the Winter Spirit's pale hair for a moment before staring at the wall.

If it was a war that Pitch wanted, it was a war that Pitch would get. No one, not even the arrogant Nightmare King, would get away with something like this. His eyes hardened at the thought, and he held Jack tighter as they stood in the empty North Pole, the remains of the bustling world reduced to nothing but ashes.


	10. Chapter 10

**So..yeah. Decided to toss the every Friday plan down the crapper, because I totally just realized that I left a cliffhanger. And...I may or may not be recieving death threats after that stunt? So I'm just going to go hide in my bunker with my laptop and get to work on my other fics and try to post every couple of days for What's Left of Me. That way you only have to wait a couple of days instead of an entire week, and I limit the threats to my life. **

**I would like to mention right now that in Chapter Six I clearly stated that there would not be character death, and you can double check to prove that I'm correct. You'll find out what happened to the Guardians later on, and that's all I'm going to say. **

**Oh, and before I forget to mention it, I do realize Paro Taktsang isn't deserted. And I will say that I've altered and created some details for the purposes of this fic. However, they are all based on the information I have found about it. I do not own Paro Taktsang in any way, shape or form, and it is real, for those of you who are wondering.**

**Warning: There is a lot of angst and hurt in this fic. **

**Disclaimer: I do not own Rise of the Guardians. **

**Summary: He had always been alone, always taken care of himself. Why would anything change now?**

o-o-o-o

_Pitch was not pleased in the least when his Nightmares returned with nothing more than the infernal Winter Spirit's staff and their heads hung low. Obviously, he had underestimated the blasted Pooka and his idiocy. Amber eyes hard, he grasped the Nightmare who had brought him the news by her mane, and with a vicious snarl, ripped the sand from her 'flesh'. _

_She screeched in agony, rearing and cringing as he turned to the rest of the Nightmares. Baring his teeth at them, they scattered like ashes on the wind, unwilling to sacrifice themselves for their brethren. After all, who knew what pain he would inflict on them if they rebelled now? _

_"You have failed me." he hissed at the defenseless mare, her ears pinned back and eyes wild with pain. "The boy and the rabbit escaped."_

_She made a sound that was a cross between a whimper and a whine, and bowed her head low, eyes pleading with him. His lip curling, he turned away from her, holding the staff in his hands delicately. He could remember well the last time he had held this same weapon in his hands, and remembered with pleasure what he had done with it once before. _

_A sneer appearing on his face, he snapped it in two, his rage sated by the sickening crack of the wood beneath his slender fingers. With a sniff, he paced over to the ashen globe that contained the lights of the children and tossed the pieces casually beneath it. _

_Turning back to the Nightmare, he narrowed his eyes. "Find him, or it will be more than your mane that I rip apart next time." _

_The Nightmare shrieked a whinny before rearing and tearing away into the shadows that were her home, leaving Pitch alone in the cavern. He rubbed the bridge of his nose softly, sighing as he relaxed his stance. It would do him no good to stay angry. No, he would see this as nothing more than a minor setback. After all, he had managed to take down three Guardians with little issue. It would only be a matter of time before he managed to catch the remaining two that continued to elude his efforts. _

_"Run, run, as fast as you can." he murmured, staring at the globe with a look of thoughfullness. "I'll catch you, and you'll perish by my hand."_

o-o-o-o

Tooth Palace was in the same state that the North Pole had been in, though the Baby Teeth had been left alone. It was clear to see why, as Jack and Bunnymund were currently surrounded by panicky, untasked Baby Teeth that were chirping and wailing frantically.

They had no tasks to be given. Toothiana had been their leader, and had told them what their tasks were for their entire lives. Now that she was gone, everything was in disarray.

Bunnymund watched them with a look of pity before turning to Jack. "They must have left them alone because they knew that this would happen." he said softly, referring to the Nightmares. "Pitch would only harm them if it were to panic Tooth, but if they completely removed her from the equation.."

There wasn't anything more that needed to be said. The results were clear as day as the poor Baby Teeth scrambled to find some form of sanity in the situation that they found themselves in.

"We should go." Jack murmured, looking around the Palace with a look of guilt on his features. Bunnymund sighed, knowing that there was literally nothing that could be done for the poor little creatures.

Bunnymund turned, and as he did so a silent scream ripped from Jack as his back arched.

_Nononononononononononononono nono! _the mantra screamed in his mind as he felt his chest burning, feeling his world shattering like a pane of glass, feeling barbs hooking themselves into his mind and piercing his very being. Vaguely, as if through a layer of water, he heard Bunnymund's call of alarm, could still hear the sounds of the Baby Teeth as they panicked, but all of that quickly faded to a dull roar. He recognized it immediately, but this time, Pitch wasn't there to kick him into the side of a cliff and end it like he had before. No, he was trapped in the circle of pain that refused him to surface or sink to unconsciousness.

He couldn't tell where he was. He felt as though his thoughts, memories, everything, were falling into a bottomless pit that threatened to engulf him if he so much as even showed signs of weakening.

His staff had been broken once again.

o-o-o-o

Bunnymund didn't know what had happened. One second Jack had been fine, and the next, this. The Winter Spirit thrashed wildly in his arms, eyes wide and glazed, unseeing, his mouth still open in a silent scream.

This had Pitch written all over it, and damn it all if he was wrong. It had to have something to do with what Jack had said about his staff, but he couldn't figure out what it was for the life of himself. There had to be a link between Jack and his staff that he and the other Guardians were missing, almost like a puzzle piece that was placed in the wrong space but appeared to fit in just fine.

But at the moment, he had more troubling things to worry about, and there was only one place he could think of that he and Jack would be safe from Pitch. Tapping his paw against the elegant frame of the ornate city, he tore off, only one destination in mind.

o-o-o-o

The altitude hit him like a ton of bricks when he finally arrived at his destination. The sunlight illuminated the deatils of the white temple as its shadow fell across what ground there was before pausing at the cliffs edge. Breathing slowly, Bunnymund studied the place that had once been a place of worship and silently crept through the halls. Jack had by now fallen limp in his grasp, which had made him panic momentarily before taking a deep breath and continue. Panic would do him no good in this situation, especially due to the fact that the altitude had the possibility of causing him to pass out.

Smoothly, he navigated the halls until he came to the innermost rooms and pulled back one of the tapestries. The doorway revealed, Bunnymund shifted Jack so that he could heave the stone out of the way and continue into the cave that lay within.

This was the place of legend that few even remembered. This had been the birthplace of the Man in the Moon. Silently, the Pooka bowed his head and apologized for the intrusion onto the holy ground, and then continued into the main cavern.

Candles, their lights lit, flickered warmly against the earthy brown of the walls, and there was a warmth that washed its way through the cavern. Inhaling lightly, the Pooka could scent the heat of spices, along with a hint of something else. Something eerie, otherworldly.

Yes, this was the mysterious cavern that the Man in the Moon had come from. None knew how, and not even the people that the Guardians were tasked to protect had an answer for how he came to be. It was said that he had simply just appeared, or had always been there, but even the Guardians knew that that was false. Every Guardian was created, and one of the greatest mysteries was who had created the Man in the Moon.

Jack whimpered in his unconscious state, and Bunnymund moved so that he could lay the Winter Spirit against the surprisingly warm floor. It was as if this place was alive, breathing and living eternally. It was a thought that he pondered as he brushed back Jack's hair gently. The panic had subsided for the moment, peace replacing it as the Pooka glanced up at the walls.

Ancient paintings coated their surfaces, telling the tale of how the first monk had found this place, many, many years ago by riding on the back of a tigress. It was a legend to most, but Bunnymund knew that there was a hint of truth within them. There was a tigress, he knew, but as to who she really was was a mystery to all. He himself had thought at one point that it had been Natura, the Mother of Earth, but he was uncertain in the end. The Tiger's Nest was a suitable nickname for the majestic and secluded temple for sure, however, and that was all that he would stay certain about.

That, and Pitch would never be able to find them here. Not unless he had been brought into the secrets of the Man in the Moon. Pitch had been one of the very first Guardians, and remained the oldest next to Sandman. The Sandman had been around almost as long as the Man in the Moon had been, but the illusive man wasn't about to go about sharing every little secret that he knew. All of them had their secrets they wanted to keep, and Bunnymund wasn't about to hold that against anyone.

Those thoughts had brought him around to Jack once more, and he sighed as he turned heavy eyes upon the motionless teen. Could he really blame him for keeping his nightmares a secret? As he had said, everyone had the right to have their secrets, and like everyone else, Jack had his. But Bunnymund found himself wondering more and more often what secrets that the Winter Spirit was keeping. Other than the nightmares, what other secrets was he hiding from the world, kept locked away so that no one would ever be able to see them but himself?

He sighed before feeling a soft breeze run itself carefully across his flank, drawing his attention to a small entrance placed neatly in the wall, inviting, as if it were simply waiting for the Pooka to arrive.

Warily, Bunnymund crept forward, his nose twitching as he tried to get a scent out of the crisp air that was blowing gently over his face. He approached the dimly lit tunnel, for it could be nothing else, on all fours, ears pricked to their full height as he looked down the pathway. There was a pale glow that beckoned him, as if there was light shimmering off of a surface.

Sending one last cautious glance back at Jack, Bunnymund stepped into the tunnel.

o-o-o-o

_Pitch sighed as he felt the moon rising. His senses had not failed him once, and though he was miles below the surface of the earth, he was still very tuned to what the lunar cycle was. Tilting his head back, he felt a small smile tugging at his lips as he basked in the nonexistent moonlight before his amber eyes became half lidded. Sighing, he felt the familiar black sands come at the slightest tug of his fingertips, relishing in the power, the freedom that it brought him. _

_"Soon.." he murmured, glancing back up at the tiny speck of light that loomed far out of reach. "I must recover my energy before I attempt such an impossible task."_

_His ashen skin was hidden as he toyed with the sands, their dark hue twirling lazily around his form as he watched, a look of neutral amusement crossing his features. Such simple forms that the most dangerous predators had become. Gently, he raised his palm, the sands twining around his fingers affectionately before slipping into the air to continue twisting into complex forms, several familiar runes among them. He murmured their names, tasting the power on his tongue as he watched their forms shift and change into others, others that he recognized. _

_"I never did understand why the Man in the Moon would abandon me, his most loyal Guardian." he hissed suddenly, his lax stance becoming rigid. "I protected their fears, chased away the dark so that that infernal devil could come along and spread his sweet dreams into their minds. And this is what has become of me."_

_Pitch truly couldn't understand why the Man in the Moon would replace him. He and the Sandman had been the original Guardians created by the Man in the Moon, and they had, for a short period of time, been considered as friends. But it had all changed. _

_Snarling, he turned on his heel, ridding himself of those damned thoughts. He would not feel remorse. He had been trapped here, left for dead, left to allow his hatred to grow far more deadly than anyone could have anticipated. _

_Yes, he would show those Guardians why he was the one that should have been heeded long ago. _

o-o-o-o

He could feel the burning sensation crawling across his flesh even as he pulled himself from the clutches of the dark, his heart feeling as though it had been torn from his chest and crushed under relentless force.

His staff was broken once again. His current wounds were nothing in comparison to the pain that he felt as the staff had snapped. It was no doubt just another guarantee that he would be unable to fight back. And at the moment, it literally felt like he had a broken heart.

A low shift of a cool wind on rocks brought him fully out of his stasis, and he slowly worked his way into a sitting position, wondering where he was. He appeared to be in a stone cavern of some kind, the walls covered in intricate paintings that seemed to depict a story of some kind, and candles littered the walls, blending in among the paintings seamlessly.

To one side, he could see a dimly lit tunnel of sorts, and considering the lack of Bunnymund, he had to assume that the Pooka had disappeared through there. That being the logical guess, of course. Rabbits usually hid in tunnels, right? Not only that, but given the Pooka's special ability to create tunnels at a simple tap of his paw, Jack was almost certain that it had something to do with said Pooka.

Slowly, he forced himself to stand, pushing aside the pain that was nearly ripping him to pieces internally and staggering over to the tunnel. He would have to stoop down to fit himself inside, but he would just have to deal with it. He _needed _physical contact with someone else, needed something to soothe the burning ache that was wearing down his mind and body. Slowly, he crept along the tunnel, one hand held protectively to his chest while the other helped him stay standing. Jack felt the world spinning loosely around him, feeling more than a little dizzy as he finally stumbled out the other end of the tunnel.

Everything was glowing a pale ice blue. The long grass beneath his feet soothed his ice accustomed feet, and a few feet away, the grass gave way to crystal clear water. Looking up, it was a circular, and in the center of the pond of sorts Bunnymund was sitting, looking as though he were deep in meditation. As Jack took a second glance, he realized that there was actually a small patch of earth beneath him, and the Pooka looked completely relaxed.

One ear twitched as Bunnymund finally registered the fact that he was no longer alone, and he lazily opened one eye to stare at the Winter Spirit. His calm exterior quickly became one of concern, however, as Jack wavered in his stance. Within moments, the Pooka was in front of him, warm paws working to steady him again, eyes searching him for any sign of injury. Obviously, considering that there were multiple fading bruises, it had to be more than a little difficult for the Pooka to determine if Jack had managed to recieve any new bruises, but apparently he managed it quite well.

"You alright, Jack?" he asked quietly, his voice echoing through the cavern.

"No." Jack replied bluntly, his voice weak. "Pitch...he broke my staff."

"What?"

The Pooka looked incredulous, but Jack held up a hand to prevent him from inquiring further. "My staff is my power, essentially. It happened once before...when Pitch and I were facing off after I found my memories.."

The topic was obviously still sore for the teen, but Bunnymund had to give him credit for at least trying to explain and let him in a little more. He slowly seated himself, pulling Jack into a gentle embrace as he encouraged the boy to explain.

"It literally felt like my heart had been ripped out." Jack confessed. "Like everything had been taken away from me. I didn't feel like I was alive. If it hadn't been for Baby Tooth, I don't know what would have happened."

Bunnymund refused to hear any more. He could only imagine what pain the Winter Spirit was in, and at the moment, all he wanted was to make it go away. Nuzzling Jack's cheek, the two fell into comfortable silence.

_Oh yes_, Bunnymund thought. _It was definitely a war that Pitch would be getting. _


	11. Chapter 11

**Hello all. Did you miss me? **

**...Didn't think so. Anywho, here's the next part of WLoM. I'm keeping my promise on updating every couple of days instead of once a week. But I'm still not coming out of the bunker for a while. So...you're gonna have to wait to pelt me with various vegetables. **

**Just putting this out there...but this fic is going to end up being 25-30 chapters long. Ish. I'm aiming for twenty, but if we make it to thirty we'll be golden. I'm also working on posting longer chapters. Have any of you noticed, or are you still staring and waiting for the JackRabbit fluff? xD Sorry everyone, but you're just going to have to settle for the hints for the moment. And I'm also re-mentioning this: **

**This fic is not going to have blatant out there fluff and relationships. And if there is, there's not going to be a ton of it. Nor is there going to be any hints of citrus. This is mostly character depth exploration on my part. **

**OH! And there's a flashback. You should be able to figure out when, and this is also a filler, for the most part.**

**Anywho, I think I'm done rambling at you for now. Enjoy the chapter. **

**Warning: There is a lot of angst and hurt in this fic. **

**Disclaimer: I do not own Rise of the Guardians. **

**Summary: He had always been alone, always taken care of himself. Why would anything change now?**

o-o-o-o

Bunnymund continued to hold Jack, his thoughts turmoiled.

Jack had fallen asleep, curled in his lap, and at the moment one hand was tangled gently in the long fur that surrounded his neck, his head resting in the crook of his neck. The Winter Spirit showed no signs of waking any time in the near future, but that wasn't quite what had the Pooka up in arms.

Someone, namely a certain Pitch Black, had hurt Jack in unimaginable ways. And what was worse was what he had had to endure the first time. He had been alone, with only Baby Tooth, and then he had practically been exiled because everyone had jumped to conclusions.

He felt a pain in his chest that twisted unpleasantly as he remembered how he had treated Jack. He had been seeking comfort, and all he had recieved was the cold shoulder. Shame washed over him as he glanced down at the teen. Jack was still a child, regardless of his age or his appearance. How had he managed to stay sane in all of those years? If it had been anyone else, Bunnymund was sure they would have tried to kill themselves long ago.

As that though crossed his mind, he froze, Jack's words from what seemed forever ago echoing through his mind.

_"Why did you save me?" _

At the time, he hadn't paid much heed to the look that had crossed the Winter Spirit's face, but now that he recalled it, everything snapped into place.

Jack hadn't been okay for a long time, and by the looks of things, he had been hiding his pain so that he wouldn't burden anyone with his problems. So when he had 'rescued' him...

He hadn't wanted rescuing. Jack had been trying to kill himself.

o-o-o-o

_Pitch inhaled the cool air, his lungs silently protesting at the frigid air that was being forced into them. His strength had returned enough for him to be able to perform a rather difficult task. _

_Around the metal globe there were now complicated circles of runes, their shapes intwining with one another and making it nearly impossible to see where they began or ended. Stepping forward, he lay his palms against the ice cold metal globe, leaning forward and murmuring in some lost language, his voice taking on a strange lilt. One by one, the runes began to glow, until there every rune glowed a dark crimson. His eyes half lidded, Pitch continued to murmur in the language, summoning as much of his power as he physically was able. His motionless form took on a dark glow, and his amber eyes slowly bled to black as a shudder wracked his frame. _

_The incantation he had spoken still rang out through the cavern, and then there was silence as he focused, sifting through the strings of languages, sifting through the images, and then pausing as he encountered a barrier. Pushing against it mentally, he snarled in frustration. He had been so close to discovering where those damned Guardians had disappeared to. No matter. He would simply revert to other methods. It was unfortunate, however, that he had lost so much of his power using the incantation. It was setting him farther and farther behind in his plans, and the Nightmare King was growing ever more displeased with the lack of results. _

_He would have to remain underground for a time yet, at this pace. He would need to regenerate the power lost, and that could take much longer than he was willing to wait. It was a necessary evil, however. He would not be taken off guard or weakened. He needed to be at full strength when he crushed the final two Guardians. _

_"No matter." he assured himself. "In the end, I will only need to destroy one."_

_Pitch's gaze flicked to the broken staff, knowing exactly what it represented to the youngest Guardian. It was his power, and effectively his soul. Without it, he would slowly weaken, and eventually, he would fade away to nothing. The fact that he had broken it would only quicken the process of the youngest Guardians death. _

o-o-o-o

The sunlight bathed everything gold as Bunnymund basked lazily in the noon sun that beat down on Paro Taktsang, better known as the Tiger's Nest. Jack lay not far off, dozing in the shade. Though he was feeling cold already, the Pooka knew that it was the fever, and had placed the Winter Spirit appropriately. Regardless of what effects the fever was having on him, it was best for Jack to remain where it was cool. He knew that the teen did not do well with warm temperatures. He became very sick, very quickly, and had witnessed this event first hand when he had followed Bunnymund down to the South one Easter.

The view, he had to admit, was breathtaking from the cliffside monastery, the buildings practically built into the stone. Far below, Bunnymund could see the green forests, and all around the mountain, he could see various other mountains, their greenery adding a sense of peace to his turmoiled mind. He was still trying to come to terms with the fact that Jack had tried to kill himself.

He had several theories on that particular basket of eggs, but he was feeling far too timid to approach Jack directly. The Pooka didn't know what Jack's reaction would be, nor did he think that this was really the right time to be speaking of it. The first and foremost task in his mind was to make sure that they both survived the coming war. That, and Bunnymund would be opening one hell of an Australian can of ass-whooping on Pitch Black for all of the misery that he had put the Guardians through over the years.

Especially for hurting Jack.

The small voice in the back of his mind purred contentedly as the thought of defending Jack came to mind. For what reason, he could only guess, but he was finding himself quickly being drawn to the ice eyed Guardian. It could be because of his traumatizing past, or the fact that he was a Guardian. Either way, he was compelled to keep the teen safe.

"How are ya holding up, Frostbite?" he asked gently, knowing that Jack could hear him quite well from his place against the wall. The pale haired boy shrugged mutely, his eyes still glazed over. Bunnymund didn't miss the way Jack's hand clenched in his shirt as he did so, however, and sighed. Beckoning to the boy, he slowly coaxed him out into the sun before pulling him into his lap. Running his paws through his hair, he felt Jack automatically relax, a sigh escaping his lips as he did so.

"You can't lie to me, Frostbite." he chided gently, continuing to run his paws through Jack's silk smooth hair. "You can tell me anythin'."

Jack let out another sigh, this time weary and pained. He shifted so that he could face Bunnymund, eyes searching the Pooka's for some kind of answer. Biting his lip for a moment, his breath hitched before he spoke.

"I think Pitch is trying to track us." he finally said. "I can almost feel him. I think it's because of the nightmares."

"You sure, Frostbite?" Bunnymund queried, to which the Winter Spirit nodded.

Sighing, Bunnymund moved so that he could curl himself around the teen, feeling much like a pet of some kind as he did so. But strangely, he didn't mind so long as it was Jack.

o-o-o-o

He could feel that something was wrong. The pain had slowly been growing worse as he lay there with Bunnymund, and he had a nagging suspicion he knew why. He could feel his body beginning to shut down. He hadn't been able to sleep without a single nightmare, regardless of Bunnymund's presence the night previous. Memories of the last time he and Pitch had faced off surfaced, and when he had woken, he expected to find himself lying in the crevice, with Baby Tooth lying helplessly next to him, unable to fly because of her damaged wing.

He didn't know what it was like to fade, but he had done his research in North's library one blizzarding afternoon while no one but the yeti were there. From one of the journals he had found, he had learned that it started when a Guardian lost an item that linked said Guardian to their power.

o-o-o-o

_Jack crept into the giant library that North kept, his pale hair glinting under the light filtering in. He hadn't slept well again the night before, images of Pitch haunting his dreams and causing him to wake up in a cold sweat. _

_He was looking for something that could possibly help him sleep, or at the very least defend his mind against the constant assault that Pitch was putting him through. Mind already made up, the Winter Spirit lightly jumped up to one of the higher shelves, sensing that his searches would be rewarded if he started there. _

_He scrolled along, scanning the titles of the books and journals, pausing before retreating back to the one title that had caught his eye. _

_It was a thin thing, a navy blue in color, with gold lettering embossed on its worn surface. Jack guessed that it was a journal purely because of the wear and tear that the cover was showing, and he perched neatly on top of the shelf to flip through its pages curiously. _

_However, one page leapt out at him, and it was then that he actually took note of what the topic was. _

_"-it has been discovered that it is, in fact, possible for a Guardian to fade. If a Guardian who possesses a secondary base item to focus their abilities, it is far more likely that this type of Guardian can and will fade with more ease than another Guardian who does not possess these qualities. This is due to the facts that a secondary base item usually contains most, if not all, of this type of Guardians abilities. Therefore, 'Secondary Guardians', as they are known to be called, must be far more cautious in the sense that their item must remain protected or close to said Guardian at all times." Jack murmured to himself, tracing the cursive writing across the page._

_"Guardians who lose or have their secondary item destroyed or stolen in any way, shape or form soon begin to go through what is less than affectionately called 'withdrawl', which has serious negative effects on the host's body. During this stage, a Guardian can be known to display-"_

_The sound of North's voice broke Jack from his reading, and he smoothly replaced the journal where he had found it before flitting out of the library. North would not be pleased if he discovered Jack wandering around his personal collection of novels, as he had been known to be fiercely protective of said books. The fact that Jack was a Winter Spirit didn't exactly help his case any, either. _

o-o-o-o

If he was correct in his suspicions, than Jack was beginning to fade. The Pooka clenched his paws protectively around Jack's torso, the teen hissing lightly as his tender ribs protested against the action. The motion, while not exactly unwelcome, was definitely uncomfortable, although Jack wasn't entirely sure that Bunnymund even realized what he was doing.

Tentatively, he waved a hand in front of the Pooka's face, but he recieved no reply.

"Bunnymund?" he wheezed as the Pooka's paws tightened further, making it hard for him to breathe. "I can't...breathe.."

The Pooka blinked, looking down at Jack cluelessly before the pale haired teen pointed to his ribs with a grimace. Almost instantly, he retracted his paws, murmuring his apologies in Jack's ear before going back to looking out over the craggy valley that surrounded them with an absent look on his features. Jack continued to look up at the Pooka curiously before he yawned. The sun was beginning to lull him to sleep, and he wasn't about to refuse the rest. After all, he needed as much of it as he could.

And yet, in the back of his mind, the tiny little voice continued to spread doubt in his mind. Would fading away really be all that bad? He could finally get his wish, finally be out of his misery, finally have done something worthwhile.

And for once, Jack ignored the voice and fell asleep with a small smile on his face.


	12. Chapter 12

**I'm thinking it might be safe if I stay in the bunker for a while longer...and not because of the cliffhanger a couple of chapters ago. **

**(insert nervous laughter here) And I'm sorry about the delay...exams are coming up, along with a science project that I've been putting off because I'm lazy. I'll update in the next couple of days, though.**

**Well...I bet none of you were expecting there to be more than one type of Guardian, huh? That's right. There's Secondary Guardians, named because their abilities are focused through 'talismans' or objects that have sentimental value to the Guardian using them. Throughout the movie, I was wondering why Jack seemed to be the only Guardian who couldn't just use his hands as a focal point for his powers, which then led me to this conclusion. For example, Cupid would be a Secondary Guardian due to the fact that he uses a bow and arrow as his focal point. Makes sense, yes?**

**I'm noticing a pattern in the last few chapters with that darned fluff sneaking in. I think I may have an infestation...**

**Ah well. Not much happening in this chapter, but there'll be (more) action starting up next chapter, so at least you have something to look forward to.**

**Warning: There is a lot of angst and hurt in this fic. **

**Disclaimer: I do not own Rise of the Guardians. **

**Summary: He had always been alone, always taken care of himself. Why would anything change now?**

o-o-o-o

Time passed for the two Guardians as they continued to hide in the secluded and abandoned monastery on the cliffside, the days snatched away by Father Time's clever fingers.

Several days had passed since they had arrived, and Bunnymund was beginning to worry for Jack's health. The Winter Spirit had been deteriorating quickly, his skin becoming more pale than the Pooka had ever seen it before. Not only this, but Jack continued to clutch at his chest every couple of minutes, his brows furrowing as if he was trying to fight off some invisible enemy in his mind. The Winter Spirit had also been growing thinner at a rapidly growing rate. Bags were forming under his eyes, which had long since glazed over with the ever present pain he now experienced.

Bunnymund was finding it more and more difficult to lull the teen to sleep, even with his large form curled around Jack's small one. It was taking a toll on the both of them, Jack especially because he could tell that Bunnymund was losing sleep himself because he couldn't sleep. It just seemed to be an endless circle of pain and misery for the both of them. Bunnymund was beginning to lose his mind at Jack's state, and he finally came up with a solution. Or at the very least a possible solution.

He was going to go back to North's workshop and search the library for anything that could lead him to helping Jack.

o-o-o-o

Quietly, the Pooka snuck out from under Jack, running a paw idly through the Winter Spirit's hair before moving out into a different part of the cave to create his tunnel. He hoped that he would long be back before he would wake and notice that he had been gone in the first place, but with Jack Frost, no one ever knew what to expect. The Pooka's time with the young Guardian could prove that.

The tunnel was colder than usual, the usual soothing summer breeze that blew through it now a bitter and challenging wind that dared him to continue forward. Shuddering as he darted through, he made record time getting to the North Pole.

Entering the workshop once more, he was struck with how silent it was without the jolly Russian wandering around and supporting the yeti and the elves as they went about their routine lives. Grief struck hard at him, its jabs cruel. He paused, allowing himself several moments to mourn the loss of his friend before continuing on to North's personal library.

Stepping around the remains of the toys, paws sending up what appeared to be ash, he slowly made his way to the mysterious room, knowing quite well that North would have his hide if he was ever caught venturing in again. The Russian was fiercely protective of his books. Particularly the journals, which had apparently been around for centuries.

He wouldn't be surprised if they were. The man was a hoarder when it came to his precious collection.

Pausing at the door, his nose twitching, Bunnymund frowned for a moment, leaning closer to the doorframe. Very faintly, there was the unmistakeable scent of fresh rains and cold. It wasn't a recent scent, but it still gave him pause none the less. Jack had been in this room at least once before. And it was highly unlikely that North or any of the others had noticed, either.

Pushing open the door, he was hit with the sudden scent of North. It nearly took him off of his feet. He was almost expecting the jolly man to be sitting in one of the armchairs, a book in one hand and a mug of tea in the other.

But there wasn't. There was only silence, emptiness. It was as if there had never been someone living in this magical place.

o-o-o-o

_He blinked curiously, turning to look at the globe as a small tingle in the back of his mind alerted him to a Guardian's presence. Stepping towards it, Pitch pressed his palms against the metal and closed his eyes, allowing the magic to guide his mind to the location. _

_"Well...it seems that a certain rabbit has wandered from it's den." he smiled, eyes gleaming in the dark. "Perhaps I should take care of this small problem."_

o-o-o-o

His paws caressed the spines of the books, his eyes roaming across the titles, some in other languages. He knew of several titles that may or may not be able to help him, but so far he was having no luck. Growling softly, he raised his eyes to the higher levels, deciding that her would ignore most of the lower shelves and aim straight for the higher. Chances were that he would find more of what he was looking for up there rather than down where just about anyone could find them.

He grabbed for one of the ladders that lined the tall shelves, easily leaping up the rungs until he caught another flash of Jack's scent. Frowning, he found himself following the trail, losing it several times among the books before he came to a thin blue book with gold lettering. Pulling it out of its place, Jack's scent smacked him dead on. Obviously, Jack had been the last person to touch this book, judging by how strong the scent was compared to the one on the doorframe.

Pulling it out, he couldn't help but notice that it was a journal of some kind, and although the title wasn't in English, the contents were. Flipping open the book, his eyes narrowed as he realized what the topic of these notes were. The cursive writing that flowed across the pages had been written by someone who knew a lot about Guardians. Whether or not this mysterious author had been a Guardian, Bunnymund couldn't say.

_It has been discovered that it is, in fact, possible for a Guardian to fade. If a Guardian who possesses a secondary base item to focus their abilities, it is far more likely that this type of Guardian can and will fade with more ease than another Guardian who does not possess these qualities. This is due to the facts that a secondary base item usually contains most, if not all, of this type of Guardians abilities. Therefore, 'Secondary Guardians', as they are known to be called, must be far more cautious in the sense that their item must remain protected or close to said Guardian at all times._

_Guardians who lose or have their secondary item destroyed or stolen in any way, shape or form soon begin to go through what is less than affectionately called 'withdrawl', which has serious negative effects on the host's body. During this stage, a Guardian can be known to display exhaustion, mild mood swings, heightened aggression, and several other ability related symptoms. Physically, a Guardian may lose excessive amounts of weight in a short period of time, along with a deteriorating mental state._

_Unless this type of Guardian somehow discovers a new object to focus their powers through, or recovers their current focus, the Guardian will die within a period of one month. _

Bunnymund froze as he finished reading the chapter, his heart beating double-time.

Jack really was dying.

That was the reality of the situation. Jack was dying, slowly, because his staff had been broken. Jack's powers were focused through his staff. But Pitch had his staff, so there was no way to get to the staff without directly confronting Pitch. And that was something that Bunnymund couldn't take a risk for. Not while Jack needed protection.

But unless they could find something else, something new for him to focus his power through, Jack was going to die. He was gong to fade away from the memories of everyone.

Torn, the Pooka closed the journal but didn't place it back on the shelf. Rather, he tucked it under his leather strap that fell across his chest before turning, deciding to explore the remainder of the workshop for anything that could possibly help him in the coming battle. He knew that there was going to be a battle, of course, because that was simply Pitch's way. Once he finished his sneaking around, he would go for a strong offense and hope to take them off guard. This had obviously worked the first time with the other Guardians, but he was a bit more cunning than he was given credit for. He was a bit of a strategist, which North had relied on for years during the years when war was far more common.

Sighing, he continued on, his paws silent as the dust and ash muffled his steps.

o-o-o-o

The Nightmares closed in on the North Pole, their dark bodies bold in the pale sky. Heavy clouds had taken over, and there was a fog rolling in from the south, which only continued to aid them in their journey. After all, their mission was to take down the Pooka, and they couldn't have him realizing that they were coming until it was too late.

Their lead mare, the largest by far and Pitch's favourite, halted suddenly, her eyes honing in on something below. Pawing at the air they stood on restlessly, the remainder of the herd waited for their orders. If anything were to go wrong now, at this stage...

The Nightmare King would destroy them all.

o-o-o-o

Bunnymund affectionately ran his paws over the doors to North's personal quarters for several moments, trying to brace himself for the emptiness that would no doubt be awaiting him.

Pushing open the giant oak structure, the Pooka slowly stepped into the room, his eyes immediately landing on the desk, still covered with half made toys and sketches of toys that he would no doubt make in the future. A fond smile crossed his features at a memory of North when he had made action figures of all of the Guardians. They hadn't been mass produced, thank all that was holy, but it was amusing to watch North go up against Toothiana to try and convince her to give in. Needless to say, North had been shot down, and badly. Tooth may not look all that threatening, but when she got going, it was best to run for cover and hope that she didn't find you. Unfortunately for North, he was still ignorant to that fact about the bird-like Guardian.

Moving away from the door, Bunnymund ventured further into the room, looking over everything with a critical eye, not noticing the gleaming eyes following him from every shadow in the room.

o-o-o-o

They had grown in intelligence over the years, and now they were willing enough to wait patiently for their chance to strike. Slowly, carefully, they darted around the room, the shadows cloaking their forms with ease. The Pooka was now trapped.

The doors slammed closed, the sounds of the Nightmares outside the windows suddenly audible, and it was only then that the Pooka whirled, boomerang in paw. His ears were pricked, and in an instant, the Nightmares struck, surging from every corner and surface that they had hidden themselves, all of them honing in on the Pooka with wild cries.

He didn't stand a chance.

Within moments, the Nightmares dispersed, leaving no trace that they had ever even been there but the layer of black dust and a thin blue journal.


	13. Chapter 13

**Hey all. Just checking in from the bunker. It's been pretty loud, what with all of the commotion going on in reply to last chapter. Also, I apologize for the severely late update. All of my exams are this week, it turns out, so I'm a bit busy with those, along with about several different papers I need to get in for tomorrow so I don't fail. **

**That said, I have to say that I loved all of your reviews. I truly did. And most of them were astonishing. Come on, guys, is there no one rooting for Jack? xD Guess not. **

**Lawl. Yep, Bunnymund's been picked off, and now there's only one. (insert evil laughter) **

**I hope you all realize that I never actually planned to go that direction, right? Originally, there was going to be more Man in the Moon, and now there's more drama instead. Ah, well, can't have it all. But you can all have some little tidbits from the journal in italics. Doesn't that sound nice? Of course it does. There's also some soft hearted Nightmare King this time around. Shocking, really. I'm really thinking that I've got a fluff infestation. **

**Warning: There is a lot of angst and hurt in this fic. **

**Disclaimer: I do not own Rise of the Guardians. **

**Summary: He had always been alone, always taken care of himself. Why would anything change now?**

o-o-o-o

Jack bolted upright, hand clenched right above his heart, hair falling into his face, drenched with sweat. His teeth were bared in a grimace of pain, and as the pain subsided, he remained in that position. He was reluctant to let his guard down just yet, considering that the pain could just as easily return.

His breathing remained shallow for several minutes as the Winter Spirit tried to get a second wind.

It only occurred to him after the fact that there had been no sign of the Pooka in his moment of panic, and he took the chance to look around, glazed eyes flickering briefly, as if some inner light was sputtering, about to go out like a candle flame.

Where was Bunnymund?

o-o-o-o

_A little known fact about these 'Secondary Guardians' is that they are part of a twin set. For example, a Guardian usually is only the Guardian of a single emotion or aspect of humanity. However, Secondary Guardians have been thought of as two sides of a coin. They have been known to have a darker, more primitive state that their abilities can revert to, as mentioned previously. _

_When a Secondary Guardian begins to fade, it is a life or death situation._

_It has been noted that it is crucial for a Secondary to find their 'secondary state' before they can find their new focal point. If a secondary state cannot be found, a focal point alone may not be enough to sustain the Secondary Guardian's life, and the risk of death is hardly reduced. _

o-o-o-o

It took several days before Jack realized that something had happened to Bunnymund. The Pooka had probably left on some scouting mission, pieced together when Jack noted the familiar brightly coloured flower sprouting from the barren dirt floor, and been caught by Pitch.

It was the least pleasant, but most likely, of the many theories that the Winter Spirit had come up with.

Jack didn't know what exactly was happening to him now, but rage filled him at the thought of the Pooka he had come to know being ensnared by Pitch. Every cell of his being outright rebelled at the thought of it, refusing to believe it. After all, there was no way that the gentle, strong protector that Jack had come to know could be...

Right?

Over the week that Bunnymund was gone, the Winter Spirit found himself noticing changes about himself.

The first was that he was losing weight at an extreme pace, something that he mentally took as stress before continuing on. The second was that his skin was getting even more pale than it already was, which shocked him to no end. He didn't think that it was possible for him to get any paler, but the evidence shown was quickly proving him wrong.

And of course, there was the now ever present lingering, stinging pain that struck when he least expected it, stealing away his breath and leaving him dizzy and confused for several hours afterwards. The closest thing that he could think of was that the pain was like a seizure. He'd seen people over the years be struck down by the deadly 'sickness' and not get back to their feet again.

The pain continued to beat down his walls internally, as well. The darker thoughts he'd thought he'd defeated once and for all were back, and this time they weren't going to simply disappear. They were going to drag him down to insanity, and then into the depths of the suffocating darkness he called Death.

But Jack held on to the one thought that if he died, what would happen to the children of the world? Who would guard them against the Nightmare King if he gave up now? Not only that, but now he had found a reason to live, to continue forward.

He had found his Hope, his New Beginning, and he wasn't about to let it go after only just realizing what he had found.

o-o-o-o

_Focal points are directly related to a Secondary Guardians 'secondary state', and can only be found by discovering what that secondary state is. If this process does not happen, then it is likely that the Guardian in question would find it much more difficult to survive the consequences. _

_The primary state of a Secondary Guardians abilities has absolutely no link to the focal point in this process, as it is only linked through the secondary state. However, the primary abilities are needed in order to discover what the secondary state is, and through that the focal point. _

o-o-o-o

_Pitch paced, endlessly. His thoughts, for once, were not in turmoil, but simply in thought. It was a rare change, but pleasant. There was hardly any need for concern any longer. He was merely gathering the strength he needed to recover from the runic spell that he had cast in order to hunt down the last of his quarry. Now, there was no need to linger on the past. _

_Jack Frost would fade soon enough, and then there would be none to stand in his way. The children of the world would be under the bewitching curse that was the Nightmare King, and there would be no escaping him this time. Too many times had they slipped through his fingers like dust on the winds. He was no longer going to be playing games. _

_This time, there would be no mistakes, no error. _

_Turning, his half lidded gaze settled on his largest Nightmare, who had come up behind him silently, her hooves sinking into the shadowy stone floor. Her head tilted to one side slightly for a moment before her flanks shuddered. Had there been insects around, it would have been the tactic to use to disrupt their crawling across her flesh. Now, however, it was simply a natural reaction that she had picked up on. It was, in her way, a sign of trust that she could relax enough around the Nightmare King in order to act in such normalcy. _

_She tossed her head, dark mane seamlessly shifting back into place, before she nickered, eyes bright as she stepped beside her master. _

_Pitch hummed a soft reply, reaching up to scratch her forehead gently, nails indenting the dark sand that made up the Nightmare's shire-like stature. This was natural to him. It was one of the small comforts that he could grasp in this weary existence of his. His Nightmares needed him, though he was sure that even if they could deny it, they wouldn't. He was, after all, their creator. To them, he was the protector, the guardian of their herd. _

_Ironic, considering his prey. _

o-o-o-o

Jack had been dozing fitfully in the dim sunlight that filtered itself feebly through the heavy clouds that loomed above the monastery, fog overtaking the rest of the valley and enclosing it in such a way that it was almost a comfort. He found that sleep brought brief relief from the pain that continued to plague him, and so it was the only thing that he could do to pass the time.

He knew that he should have been thinking of ways to rescue the other Guardians, but in his current state, there was no physical way that he would be capable of doing so. Not only that, but he was literally powerless. His staff was broken, and he had no other way of using the frost that lingered in his veins.

Sighing, the Winter Spirit looked up at the sky, his thoughts disorganized.

"How am I supposed to be a Guardian if I can't even protect myself?" he murmured wearily, his eyes closing in defeat.

o-o-o-o

_He opened his eyes to find himself back in the main cavern, the blue glowing eerily around the walls. Frowning, he whirled, eyes seeking out the exit that should have been there, but wasn't._

_Fear bloomed in his chest. How had he gotten here? And why was he here?_

_Warily, he stepped into the water, but to his surprise, his foot ghosted along the top of it as though it were merely solid. Looking down, he found that he was actually stepping onto ice. His eyes widened, mouth dropping open. He could use his powers here! _

_Hope beginning to return to him, Jack focused on his palms before touching the surface of the water, what he wanted clear in his minds eye. _

_"I am afraid that that will not work here." a deep voice said softly from in front of him. _

_Jack's head snapped up, locking gazes with the newcomer. _

_He was middle-aged, his skin as white as Jack's own, and his form was clad in milky white. Jack could recognize the familiar japanese style haori, though with the long sleeves that trailed along the ground it could hardly be considered as such, in his opinion. Loose hakama hung from below the haori, and the cloth slippers that adorned his feet were also the milky white. In fact, the man was the very description of the colour. His hair was long, loose, falling to his hips, and his face was gentle, showing small creases from age. However, it was the snow white eyes with no pupils that startled the Winter Spirit the most. It was as if the man had gone blind, but here he was, staring straight at him. _

_As if sensing his unease, the man smiled, patting the grass next to him in silent offering in the small island that was cradled by the water. "Sit with me a moment, Jack Frost."_

_It was said as a offer, yet Jack felt as if the serene man before him was also commanding him. He felt his limbs move of their own accord, and his steps were silent as the water froze beneath his bare toes. It was a familiar sensation he had come to miss in the recent months._

_Jack seated himself across from the man, who appeared to have fallen back into meditation, but after a moment, a small smile began tugging at the other's lips, and one eye opened slightly. _

_"I am sure you are wondering who I am." _

_The Winter Spirit nodded hesitantly, unsure of what the answer would be. However, the man laughed, softly, and gently spread his hands, palms upwards, gesturing to the cavern around them. _

_"This is my innermost sanctuary, Jack Frost. E. Aster brought you here so that I would protect you both from the Nightmare King's prying eyes."_

_The words didn't quite make sense to Jack for several moments, and then it clicked. _

_"You're-" he started, but was silenced by a shake of the other's head. _

_"Yes. I am the Man in the Moon. And I can see why E. Aster would bring you here, to my former home." the Man in the Moon replied with a small smile. "But it seems you have lost a precious gift, Jack Frost."_

_It was said gently, almost in sadness, but Jack felt as though the Man in the Moon was scolding him as if he were naught but a child. Automatically, he felt his body slump, hanging his head. It was true. His abilities, his power, were gone. _

_"Yes." he croaked, feeling tears well in his eyes. This was the being that had given him life, a second chance, and all he had done was screw everything up, over and over again. _

_A cool hand was placed under his chin, and the Man in the Moon tilted Jack's head back up, a frown on his features. "None of this is your fault, young one. In comparison to the other Guardians, you are simply a newborn. You cannot be expected to know everything about your own abilities. But that is why I have chosen to reveal myself to you. There is a chance of regaining what you have lost." _

_"How?" Jack blinked, the hope beginning to spark in his chest once again. _

_The Man in the Moon smiled cryptically before intoning, "What is two must become one. What is one must become two, but to become one the light must merge with the dark in harmony. What was lost can be found, but to be found must become lost once again before the sands of time are stilled."_

_Jack was completely and utterly confused by the time the Man in the Moon had finished speaking, and his curiosity won out. _

_"What's that supposed to mean?" he asked, near desperately, as the Man in the Moon stood and offered the Winter Spirit a hand. _

_"Now that, Jack Frost, is something that you must discover on your own. But you must make haste. You don't have much time."_

_With that, the Man in the Moon simply faded, becoming moonlight that filtered in from the open cavern ceiling. _

_Jack remained standing, his mind awhirl, an endless amount of questions swarming in his mind._

_Just what did the Man in the Moon mean? _


	14. Chapter 14

**Ahaha, I return. But I'm not leaving the bunker. I've moved furniture in here now. It's pretty comfortable in here, and I don't think I'm going to come out until I'm sure that I'm not going to get sniped or something. Yeah, it's going to be a while until I come back out of this bunker...**

**Anywho...Yeah. The Man in the Moon makes an appearance! I was rather pleased with how he ended up, though I wasn't so much by my crappy descriptions. Ah well. I'm a little flattered that a couple of you reviewers think that this riddle is so wonderful. My love goes out to each of you. **

**I'll be dropping a few hints here and there so that you readers might have the chance to figure out the riddle yourselves. But I'll say this: you already have the answer, which I find a little amusing. **

**You'll all have your daily dose of Jack in this chapter...and maybe some suggestions of something else if you're lucky. (insert grin here) I will mention now that this is a piece of fiction. I have taken liberties with the monastery and its details. Therefore, nothing I write about the Tiger's Nest will actually be real. And if there is something about it that isn't, it's a weird coincidence. **

**I really don't like how this chapter turned out, to be perfectly honest. In fact, I want to destroy it with a fiery passion, but I didn't. So you're lucky. **

**Warning: There is a lot of angst and hurt in this fic. **

**Disclaimer: I do not own Rise of the Guardians. **

**Summary: He had always been alone, always taken care of himself. Why would anything change now?**

o-o-o-o

When Jack woke, the words of the Man in the Moon continued to ring through his ears. What bothered the Winter Spirit was that no matter how hard he tried, he could not remember the Guardians appearance. Everything in his memory seemed to blur into a fog at that point.

He pulled himself to his feet, stretching cautiously, very conscious of the fact that his ribs still throbbed vaguely if he moved the wrong way.

However, that didn't seem to be the case this time. In fact, there didn't appear to be any pain radiating out from his chest.

Jack's brows furrowed, and he pulled up the thin fabric of his sweater to examine his torso, expecting to see the dark mottled blues and purples splayed out across his skin. To his shock, there was nothing. None of the raised flesh, no bruises, nothing. It was as if there had never been an injury.

He felt his jaw drop, and tentatively, the Winter Spirit traced the places where the pain had been radiating from before pressing lightly against his ribs. Again, to his surprise, there was no pain. It was all normal.

"_What..?" _he whispered in disbelief, even as his subconscious was putting the pieces of a puzzle together.

It had to have something to do with the Man in the Moon. What, exactly, he wasn't entirely sure, but he knew that there was no other way that he would magically have no injuries. Gingerly, still a little hesitant about straining himself, Jack went through some of the acrobatics that he'd picked up over the years, starting off with the more basic moves before continuing seamlessly into the more difficult, his body automatically responding to the rougher terrain.

Breathing lightly, he allowed a small smile to cross his face, the other pains and aches forgotten for the moment as he relished the temporary freedom that he had been given.

o-o-o-o

He was perched on the edge of one of the roofs, coincidentally one of the only ones that hung out over the edge of the cliff face that the monastery was perched precariously upon. If he fell, there would be no way to stop himself from doing so. It would be a one way trip to nowhere.

But the Winter Spirit was simply thinking, deep in thought as the riddle that he had been given continued to echo in his mind. The words had something to do with regaining his abilities. He knew that much from what the Man in the Moon had told him.

_What is two must become one? One must become two? _

Wincing, Jack rubbed at his chest, just over his heart, as another sharp flash of pain struck. It reminded him of the tides. How they swept up the sands before ebbing, and then continuing again. Or the wind, gentle at times, others fierce.

His mind wandered, and Jack found himself remembering Pitch breaking his staff and almost killing both he and Baby Tooth. It seemed so long ago now, as if it had been some other lifetime that he'd lived it. Sighing softly, he tilted his head to one side, eyes glazing over as he lost himself in the memories.

o-o-o-o

_"But first.." Pitch sneered, the staff clenched in his slender fingers. Bringing the staff down across one leg, he felt the pain that erupted in his chest suddenly, barely felt the dark sand as it blasted him into the rocks, didn't feel the impact as he collided with the snowy ground in the crevice below. _

_Everything blurred after that. Vaguely, he could see the memories that he had seen flickering light shadows across a wall, their shapes jagged. Baby Tooth and her pitiful cries as she tried to wake him from the nightmares that he had been suffering as he lay unconscious, and her relief when the Winter Spirit finally woke. _

_The teeth that she had pushed into his hands, eyes trusting him completely even though he knew he didn't deserve it. He wasn't a hero, he was simply a coward, a trouble-making brat who only continued to cause nothing but misery to the Guardians. He couldn't even understand why he had been chosen as a Guardian. Why had he been chosen for what seemed to be an impossible task? _

_There was no hope for him any longer. Why had he become a Guardian when there were so many other well-known Guardians out there that would have been just as good for the job, if not better. _

_But for some reason, it had been Baby Tooth to show him that small light at the end of the dark tunnel that he had found himself trapped in. He had pulled himself together, and watched his memories, memories that had been lost to him for countless years. His young sister, who he had saved from falling through the ice on the small lake. The cold as it embraced him with open arms, and after that...nothing. _

_He hadn't known what had compelled him to try and seal the two halves of his staff back together, but he had, somehow. _

_The staff. _

o-o-o-o

Jack started, nearly losing the grib his toes had on the edge of the roof as he did so.

The pieces of his staff.

"What is two must become one." he said softly. But that still left several other pieces of the verbal puzzle unanswered. If what was two had to become one, then what had to become two?

Groaning, his head beginning to throb with so much musing, he fell back onto the roof, looking up at the sky, still hidden by the thick cloud cover that seemed to be refusing to leave. Jack was beginning to understand what North had said about the Man in the Moon being so 'blasted cryptic'. This riddle wasn't helping him at all.

Neither was the fact that the Winter Spirit had no way of getting out of wherever he was, or getting to Pitch, or even finding out what had happened to Bunnymund. This was all just building up into something that would only end in misery.

Frowning, the teen stood, wincing again as another flash of pain shot through him. By the looks of things, he only had so long before he would fade away.

There was a shiver that ran through him at the thought. Once, he knew that the simple thought of fading would have him welcoming it, wishing that it would hurry up and happen so that he wouldn't have to suffer in his isolation any longer.

But now...he had friends, people he cared about. People he wanted to protect more than ever now that Pitch had returned. Jack refused to allow himself to fade away now, not while he had something worth doing. The Winter Spirit would make things right, and this time there was nothing that could stand in his way.

o-o-o-o

_He was sitting in a circle of runes, his face calm as he seemingly meditated. His breathing was calm, and his mind was slowly beginning to whisper the names of the runes he knew instinctively. _

_It would be a lengthly incantation, one that would last several hours, but thankfully would not take much of his energy in return. No, he had gathered his Nightmares instead, the lower ranked mares that had been created specially for this event. They knew it was their duty, their honour, to do this for their master. However, though the Nightmares knew that this was their fate, the instincts that they had been born with rebelled loudly. _

_The Nightmares had been standing in their own designated places when they suddenly disappeared, the runes their hooves had been touching glowing bright amber. Pitch sighed as the energy filled the air, the snap of electricity clear in the air. He breathed it in gratefully, the scent familiar and comforting, one that he had not tasted since before he had been sealed away in the dark underground city. _

_He longed to touch the earth again, to see the sky, to be able to savor each moment of the freedom that he would have eternity to enjoy. _

_All it would take was one more spell, and everything would fall into place._

_There was only one more obstacle standing in his way. _

o-o-o-o

Jack sneezed, almost knocking himself out against the rock he was leaning against. The pain that accompanied said sneeze was also almost enough to knock the poor Winter Spirit out, but that was besides the point.

His chest was beginning to ache with more severity than the previous rounds, and he was leaning against the rocks to try to catch his breath. He was finding it harder and harder to breath as the hours dragged on.

The only piece of the riddle he had managed to figure out was that he had to put his staff back together before he faded. It sounded a lot easier than it actually was, of course.

His brief high that had come with learning that his injuries had healed was long faded: the hopelessness was beginning to return with deadly focus. The motivation that had previously driven Jack was now gone, and the chill was creeping back up on him, hoping to ensnare him in its dangerous grasp before dragging him back under the darkness he'd been trying to shake off for countless months.

Growling softly, he shifted, moving away from the wall before stalking lightly down one of the halls of the monastery. Even though it was isolated and abandoned, Jack found himself appreciating the simplicity of what the monks before him had lived in for years. The halls were simple, and there were windows lining almost every wall that didn't involve cliff-facing rooms. Everything was so...open. It was foreign to him.

As the thought crossed his mind, he found himself simply drifting along, no set destination in mind.

Perhaps that was what led him to a room that was set up in a manner similar to that of a library. Scrolls of all kinds lined the walls, each tucked into its own specified cubby. The scent of ink and paper was familiar, and the Winter Spirit found himself subconsciously relaxing as he allowed himself to be immersed into the historical literature.

Quietly, he explored the walls, pulling the occasional scroll from its place before replacing it where it belonged. It wasn't until he found a scroll that had been written in English that he actually bothered to look more closely at the content that it held.

o-o-o-o

_-It has been thought that the human species as a whole has what has become less than affectionately been called their 'dark side'. _

_However, many believe that there is no 'dark side', but two pieces of a whole, the ying and yang of our souls, so to speak. They balance one another out, and with it we may find our inner selves. However, these inner selves that we futilely seek may not be as dark as we seem. They may simply be alien in nature to our own beliefs and opinions, nothing more. _

_Meditation has been concluded to be the best way in discovering our inner selves. To do so, much thought is needed. One must discover what their other half, their 'dark side' is, on their own. From this, one's inner self will be revealed, and harmony will be achieved. _

o-o-o-o

It couldn't really be this simple, could it?

Jack barely even glanced at the other half of the scroll, his eyes honed in on several lines that leapt to attention. It was as if everything had been planned out for him, as if he were to simply follow a trail of breadcrumbs out of the dark forest he had found himself in.

His thoughts flew back to the dream that he had had with the Man in the Moon. Maybe it had been like that. Maybe, there was someone else out there watching over him after all.

"Is this what I was supposed to find?" he asked quietly, blue eyes curious as he tilted his head back to stare at the ceiling, as if it might answer his questions. "Am I supposed to wait for the next clue?"

The Winter Spirit could have sworn that he heard soft laughter from somewhere nearby, surrounding him in gentle warm before disappearing. It was slightly unnerving to say the least, considering that before now the only contact that he had had with the Man in the Moon had been him staring up at the sky. The thought that the Man in the Moon was actually real, actually had a solid human form, was confusing to say the least.

Rolling the scroll back up, he thought about placing it back in the cubby before he changed his mind and tucked it into his sweater pocket instead. Now that he thought about it, it would probably be a thought to tuck away in the back of his mind to get a new change of clothing. His current state of attire was beginning to show how much abuse it had been put through in the last several weeks.

But for now, it was due time that he went back into the main cavern and test out this meditation theory.

After all, he was running on borrowed time, and soon enough, that time would run out.

o-o-o-o

_Finally, it was complete. _

_All of the runes now glowed with eerie gold hues, ranging from the softest yellow to the boldest amber, they were the only light that illuminated the gigantic space that surrounded the Nightmare King and his remaining Nightmares. _

_He could feel the power surrounding, gathering around him eagerly, awaiting the opportune moment before it would release itself. _

_Pitch sighed, leaning his head back, weary from the lack of motion. It required a great deal of energy on his part not to move from the position he was in and to finish the incantation. _

_"And now..." he murmured, eyes half lidded as he blinked lazily, "The finale has arrived. The curtain has been drawn." _

_Darkness engulfed the underground city, and when it finally cleared, there was no sign of the Nightmare King or the Nightmares. It was as if they had never even been there in the first place, save for the snapped halves of the staff that lay pitifully below the metal globe that dominated one area of the cavern._

_He was free at last. _


	15. Chapter 15

**Holy crap. I was slapped upside the head by one hell of a plot bunny while I was puttering around on YouTube. Good thing the bunker has medical kits lying around. I'll give it a couple more chapters before I consider coming out of the bunker. **

**Well, our little Winter Spirit is being led by a trail of breadcrumbs, or so it seems. But Pitch is finally back! (insert squeal here) Ahem. It's not my fault that Pitch is such a sexy badass. He just is. **

**But by the looks of things, Jack's quickly running out of time. Can he figure out the rest of the riddle before it's too late? And what do you guys think Jack's focal point would be? I'm interested in hearing your thoughts and opinions on this topic. **

**We're on the straight stretch now, people. Maybe. Depending on if I can live through voice checks for choir tomorrow. That'll be fun. **

**EARLY UPDATE! (insert fireworks here) Just cause I'm busy tomorrow and won't have any time to update that I can tell. If I do have time tomorrow, I'll start on the next chapter for Wednesday, so I hope you all enjoy this early chapter. **

**Warning: There is a lot of angst and hurt in this fic.**

**Disclaimer: I do not own Rise of the Guardians. **

**Summary: He had always been alone, always taken care of himself. Why would anything change now? **

o-o-o-o

_"It's the one thing I always know...peoples greatest fears."_

_"Why you? Why were you chosen to be like this?" _

_"-unable to reach out to anyone?" _

_"-your memories."_

_"I thought this might happen." _

_"I was just trying to show you that." _

_"You don't have to be alone, Jack." _

_"You want to be left alone? Done." _

_"We should never have trusted him!" _

_Sinister laughter echoing around him as he fell, fell through the darkness, into the maw below that eagerly awaited its next meal. Pain flowering from his chest, turning to frost as it slowly crept over his sensitive skin, encasing him in a cold prison from which he couldn't escape, no matter how hard he thrashed. _

_Faces flashing by, each more somber than the last, each telling him how disappointed they were in him. _

_"You're nothing but trouble." Bunnymund snarled at him. "We should never have trusted you."_

_"How could you betray us, Jack?" Tooth asked sadly, not meeting his eye._

_"You were with Pitch." North said before turning his back and leaving him behind. _

_Even Sandy looked at him with regret before darkness surrounded him, cutting him off from anyone else. _

_"Wait!" he cried, trying to go after them, trying to explain what had happened. _

_It was no use: the Winter Spirit was once again abandoned, left to fend for himself again in the lonely world. The world where no one could see him, and the one's who could had no doubt long forgotten about him. _

_He felt his heart shatter as accusations rang through the darkness, each of them stabbing and breaking him more than he ever could have anticipated. He felt himself collapse, his chest feeling as though he had been run through by a blade, his eyes dulling as his will slowly crumbled away, piece by piece. _

_And then there was light, warmth that curled around his thin frame protectively as low murmuring started near his ear. _

_"Don't give in, Jack Frost." the Man in the Moon murmured soflty, staring him in the eye. "There are many depending on you. Now is not the time to give up. are allowing the Nightmare King to rule you."_

_He couldn't force himself to care. _

_"Jack, there is a reason I chose you. Where is the proof now? If you give up now, everything you care for will disappear, as will you. Get up. Fight. I know it is possible. I can sense it, here." _

_Gently, the Man in the Moon placed his palm over Jack's heart, holding it there for several moments before he stood. "I believe in you, Jack Frost. Never forget this." _

o-o-o-o

His eyes snapped open, his heart pounding as he found his body moving of its own accord, getting away from where he had been attempting to meditate.

"More like a nightmare." he muttered, still trying to catch his breath, ignoring the stinging pain that came with breathing the best he could.

It was day four of 'meditating', and so far, each an every attempt had failed in many, many ways. Each time he tried to achieve 'inner peace', memories and thoughts clouded his mind, immobilizing him and causing him to fall into a nightmare state instead.

Maybe he was taking the wrong approach to this. The thought struck him suddenly, making him pause in his panting as he recovered from his latest failure. Maybe there was something much simpler that was staring him in the face and he didn't even realize.

Seating himself down again, Jack thought back on the events that had led him to this point in his life.

He'd been brought back from death for the purpose of becoming a Guardian. That much he knew for certain. The other details were still unclear, blurred around the edges. He wasn't entirely sure why he had become a Guardian, other than the obvious reasons: saving his sister from drowning. What was it about that that made him so special? Any older sibling had the same genetic protective instincts programmed into them. Most older siblings would probably have done the same thing that he had in order to keep their family safe.

After that, he couldn't really think of any events that would be of any importance to finding the answers to the riddle. After all, it had been a long and lonely isolation for the Winter Spirit. The days, months, years, all blended together with faint streaks of colour and sound that had no importance to him whatsoever.

And then he had been dragged into a war, into a role that he wasn't even interested in. No one could understand why he didn't want it: after all, many other lesser spirits would kill to be where Jack was.

Among the sudden clash, of which he was in between the two sides, he was lost. He didn't truly belong to either cause that the Guardians and the Nightmare King were fighting for, nor did he even understand why. At least, not until he was attacked personally by Pitch.

He'd been forced to pick a side, forced to try and put his trust into people that he had only just met, and in the end they had all turned their backs on him. All but one.

Bunnymund had been the single Guardian, in the end, to realize that Jack had more hidden behind the false smiles and laughter than anyone else could possibly realize or understand. He had been the one to catch him when he fell, both literally and figuratively.

He had seen his memories, seen what he had done, seen what traits had been in his possession and which were the reasons behind him becoming a Guardian in the first place. His centre, Fun.

_Of course. That's part of the key. What is one must become two, but to become one the light must merge with the dark in harmony. _

The Winter Spirit's eyes narrowed at the last half of the line, still unsure of what that particular part of the riddle meant, but slowly beginning to realize what he had to do in order to find his inner self.

Writings that he had read began coming back to him, the first being the journal that he had read in North's private library. He was fading, his life slowly flickering out of existence like a dying candle. Then there was the scroll that he had read, about his inner self. And then there was the riddle that the Man in the Moon had given him.

He had to piece together his staff. But first, he had to find his inner self, his 'dark side'. And he had to do it before he finally faded. His clock was ticking, and time was beginning to run out for him.

But what was the opposite of what he was? And what was he, anyway?

Again, the answer came to him almost immediately. It was Fun, of course. His mischievousness, laughter, and fun that he brought to the children when he brought the winter snows to their homes. But what would be the opposite of fun? Boredom would probably be the most insistent answer that popped into his mind, but Jack knew instinctively that that wasn't the right answer.

Alright, so that eliminated the obvious answers. Could it have something to do with the actions or personality traits associated with Fun?

Musing on this, Jack began thinking about the answer, unknowingly falling back into a trance of sorts.

_Excited, together, enjoying time with others, linking back to together...what am I even doing this for? _

Sighing, he allowed his mind to wander away from him for a while, not even noticing that he was slowly relaxing and falling into a meditative state as the minutes ticked by. Words crossed his mind, each meeting with the same denial. They weren't the right ones. They weren't the opposite that the Winter Spirit was seeking. More images flashed before his eyes, images that he supposed had to have some meaning and link to the riddle, but unable to piece them together. It was like a puzzle with too many pieces. He was insisting that a piece that looked like it belonged went somewhere that another piece was supposed to be fit into, and he found himself slowly calming himself down, forcing himself to look at each image to try and get more clues.

In each of the images, all he could remember was the pain, the shock, the hurt, the loneliness-

_The Loneliness. _

The word sounded right, as if it had always been present, simply waiting patiently for him to stumble upon it and release it from the collar and leash that it was shackled to. Loneliness was the word that was waiting for him to stumble upon. Yet, it still wasn't the word that he was searching for. It was merely a stepping stone, one that he would have to cross quickly in order to decipher the remainder of this riddle.

Loneliness was the word that he would have to decipher now, and quickly, Jack began sifting through the words that could possibly help him. _Calm, calculating, soothed...are any of these even close to Loneliness? _

Jack snorted, shaking his head. He couldn't see soothed being a part of Loneliness...except that it was. His heart, cracked and damaged as it was, was telling him that it was the direction that he should take.

As if this was the signal of some kind, moonlight shone down in front of him, a figure just able to be made out. Features were blurred, and yet Jack still knew that this was the Man in the Moon.

_"You have done well in deciphering my riddle, Jack Frost." _his voice praised lightly.

Jack blinked, confused. What was the Man in the Moon talking about? He'd been trying for the last week, if not longer, to try and figure out the riddle. But he still hadn't figured it out entirely...right?

Soft laughter came from the Man in the Moon, and suddenly the features became clearer.

_"I have been watching over you, Jack Frost. You already know the answer to my riddle, both in your head and in your heart. And I have led you to this place for a reason."_

Turning, the Winter Spirit was onlly vaguely surprised to see that they were in the centre of the main cavern, the walls gleaming their odd blue and milk way. Returning his gaze to the Man in the Moon, he raised a brow curiously.

_"Let your heart free, Jack." _the Man in the Moon whispered, suddenly next to the Winter Spirit and next to his ear. His breath was cool, smelling faintly of clarity, somehow, and it soothed Jack, even as his instincts wanted him to run. He was still unused to this close contact.

The Winter Spirit turned his attention inwards, pushing through the walls of pain that stubbornly held strong. Grimacing, he fought through, and then he could feel it. A pulse, drawing him in from somewhere in the cavern. It was a current of some kind, and it was connecting him to something in the rocky stone face.

The Man in the Moon stepped away from the teen as he stepped forward, eyes honed in to a specific place in the wall, one that only he could see. The Man in the Moon smiled softly, feeling something in himself pull away from him gently. He knew exactly what the Winter Spirit could see, and what he would pull from the wall. After all, he was the one who had placed it there in hopes that he would figure out the riddle.

Jack ignored the water, feeling the familiar sensation of frost spreading beneath his bare toes, focused on only one thing. The solid rock seemed to melt as his fingers touched it, pulling back as he reached further and further into its depths to grasp the object that had been calling to him. As his slender fingers closed around the smooth surface of something small, Jack suddenly felt the strangest sensation go through his chest.

The pain pulsed sharply for several seconds before fading into the background, the cooling breath of wind washing over his skin. Everything seemed to slow into slow motion, as if time itself had been paused. The familiar sounds of the frost that he hadn't heard in weeks was suddenly present, as was the wind, something that he had not heard for just as long.

Cradling the object in his hand, Jack brought it down before uncurling his fingers, revealing the frost blue stone that lay nestled in his palm.

The Man in the Moon nodded, a small smile crossing his features.

_"That, Jack Frost, is your focal point." _

Jack's head snapped up, the hesitation and confusion clear in his eyes. "My what?" he asked, puzzled. Already, the Man in the Moon could see the differences that had occurred within the brief moments that the Winter Spirit had held the stone. His thin frame seemed to be expanding slightly, returning to the previous state it had been in, the heavy black bags under his eyes fading away as he watched. His skin, too, was returning to the milky white that he had possessed for hundreds of years, while the frost blue gaze that the Winter Spirit was looking at him with grew brighter.

_"Your focal point, Jack Frost." _the Guardian replied, taking a step forward. _"In the circumstance that a Guardian such as yourself loses their original focal point, in your case your staff, the Guardian must recover their original focal point or find a new one. If not...the Guardian will fade." _

He could see that his words were hitting home in the younger Guardian. His face tightened, jaw clenching tightly. "But why me?" he asked quietly.

_"Jack, I can see that you have suffered for a great many years because of my choices in the past. But right now, you are the only Guardian who can stop the Nightmare King." _the Man in the Moon sighed. _"I can see your pain and your suffering."_

Jack's gaze returned to the stone nestled in his palm.

_"The Moonstone. It has been said that these stones are linked with a great many things, including dreams. But what is a fact is that they are known to have calming and healing effects on those who possess them."_

The Winter Spirit soaked in the information. Glancing back up, he found that he was once again alone in the cavern, no signs of the Man in the Moon anywhere in sight.

But the one thing that was there was the Moonstone, still cradled in his hand.

Determination rising in his eyes, he clenched his fingers around the stone protectively, resolute. "I won't let Pitch win." he hissed. "Not even if it means I have to go through every single damned Nightmare he can throw at me."


	16. Chapter 16

**Hey all! (cautiously pokes head out of bunker) I'm back! Kind of. I'm not exactly used to all this bright light, considering I've been camped out in the bunker.**

**Anywho...Jack's found his new focal point! Yes, it's a moonstone. I thought it suited him considering everything he's been through. **

**This chapter is basically a filler. I apologize if any of you were looking for some action, but I'm still working out the details for how I want the confrontation between Pitch and Jack to go. **

**I'm also really, really sorry about it being so short. But it kinda needs to be considering what I'm planning for the plot of this fic. Sorry again!**

**P.S. Ignore the freakishly long lack of updates. **

**Warning: There is a lot of angst and hurt in this fic. **

**Disclaimer: I do not own Rise of the Guardians.**

**Summary: He had always been alone, always taken care of himself. Why would anything change now?**

o-o-o-o

Jack slept soundly for the first time in several weeks after shifting himself into a more comfortable position. He was still puzzled, feeling as if it had all been too easy. It had to be a dream. This was all just a figment of his imagination, and as soon as he woke up, there would be no power, no sense of calm washing over him. There would be the pain that he was beginning to grow accustomed to, the hopelessness, and there would definitely be no riddle to solve.

There wouldn't be anything.

o-o-o-o

His waking came slowly, peacefully. Lazily, Jack stretched out, feeling much like a content cat as he did so. There was an unfamiliar weight in his palm, however, and he blearily brought his hand around so that he could get a close look at the stone that had changed his life so drastically in the astonishingly brief period that it had been in his possession.

It gleamed bright ice blue in the candles that surrounded him in the small earthen cavern, a tint of the blue that was in the main cavern glancing off of one side eerily. Among everything else, it was soothing the gaping wounds that the break of his staff had created, slowly numbing them and sealing them, binding itself to him as it did so.

Jack examined the stone as he lay on the ground, his thoughts drifting as his mind slowly became more alert.

He'd somehow managed to stop the process of fading away, dying...whatever word one wanted to choose. And by the sounds of it, this stone was the new 'focal point' for the power that lay dormant within him. The Winter Spirit was still skeptical of this, considering that he was used to a staff in his hands. He had practically grown up with one, considering what he saw in the memories that Baby Tooth had made him view.

But how the hell was he supposed to use his powers if he was completely alienated from said powers? The Man in the Moon was making his head spin with all of the information that he had poured into the teen's ears, and now it seemed that Jack would not be able to get through this milestone particularly easily.

Sighing, he rolled onto his back, idly tracing imaginary shapes on the ceiling of the cave as he pondered what he was going to do next.

By the sounds of things, the Man in the Moon was counting on him to put a stop to Pitch's madness once and for all, but to do so, he needed to harness his power through this chunk of rock that he was holding in his hand.

If he was going to do that, then he was probably going to want to take his practices outdoors, where there would be less of a risk of damaging the cave and making it collapse on him. Which would be rather counterproductive to everything that he was currently attempting to accomplish. For once, Jack was focusing solely on his abilities, and nothing else would even dare cross his mind while he was trying to regain the control he had lost.

o-o-o-o

"Okay..." Jack muttered to himself, standing in one of the several courtyards that lay hidden in the monastery. "This shouldn't be too hard, right?"

Going with what seemed to be natural to him, he held the Moonstone in one hand, fingers holding onto it tightly as his other hand spread underneath it. Closing his eyes, Jack focused on the faint tingling sensation that had once been subconscious thought and _pulled_. A moment later, the sound of crackling reached his ears, and he hesitantly opened his eyes.

Along one side of one of the buildings, frost was slowly creeping along its surface, dangerous in the show of power that Jack hadn't even meant to create. It didn't matter to the Winter Spirit: he could actually create his frost again.

"Wind, you there?" he asked to no one in particular, hoping with all of his heart that his oldest and most faithful companion would answer his call.

There was a faint tingle, as if there was some kind of reply, but was unable to feel the familiar caress that signalled the presence of wind.

Disappointment flooded him, and he rubbed his face tiredly. He supposed that it was a miracle that he had even been able to make frost, but he desired the companionship that had come with the wind for years.

It didn't mean that he had lost his connection with the wind, right? There was no way that this new way of focusing his powers would inhibit him from using them to his fullest, right?

"Damnit." he sighed, sitting down on the cool ground. "This sucks."

o-o-o-o

The Winter Spirit spent the rest of the day experimenting with how much of his power he still had control over, and by the looks of things, he could still possibly control all of it. Now how well he could depended on how much time he had to grow used to this strange new way of controlling his abilities.

"Wonder if that library has any more scrolls that could help?" he muttered to himself as he glanced around the now frost covered courtyard. His feet tingled lightly from the cold that they needed to grow used to once more, considering that he hadn't really been on his feet while he had been in the Warren with..

He didn't finish the thought. Somehow, his entire being was rejecting it, making him think that there was some denial there. Then again, that particular thought didn't surprise him in the least. After all, he had seen Bunnymund's inner strength. He wouldn't just let Pitch win like that. It just wasn't possible.

"Okay, I admit it! I am in denial." Jack said to himself, running a hand through his hair as he laughed dryly. "That's it. Time for me to retire, go to the looney bin. Join in the rest of the crazies in playing tricks on the people of the world, that kind of thing. Wonder if Karma would be there...she must have issues, what with people always telling everyone that she'll get them."

Muttering to himself, Jack slowly made his way out of the courtyard and back into the comforting halls of the monestary, his feet taking him where he needed to go without much conscious thought involved.

The library was as silent as ever, as deserted as it had been the last time he had been here.

Though this time, Jack was on a mission. He knew exactly what he was looking for now. All he had to do was sniff it out from wherever it was hiding.

His steps light, the Winter Spirit flitted around the room, his attention lasting less than Toothiana's ever would. It was something that occurred to him at the back of his mind, but didn't pay much heed to. After all, it wasn't important at the moment. It wasn't what he needed right now. He would come back to it later if he thought it would be useful to him in some way or another.

Finally, he found something. It was a newer scroll, by the looks of the ink, but unfortunately, it wasn't in English. However, there were some faint sketches done around the edges of the writing, and that was what interested him.

They looked to be poses of some kind, definitely chinese in origin. Examining them closely in a brighter spot, Jack guessed that they were meditation poses of some kind. But that didn't make any sense, considering that they looked warrior in origin.

"This just got a whole lot harder." he grumbled, seating himself just outside of the library, where the natural light illuminated the paper. "But if it's going to get me back my powers, then I guess I'll just have to get over it."

o-o-o-o

_He was standing beneath the darkest clouds that he could find, his ashen face tipped back to the sky. Amber orbs were half lidded as his gaze honed in on the flickering that lingered deep within the beasts of the sky. _

_Lightning. It was so dangerous, free to do as it pleased with no one to challenge its power. _

_Sighing, he closed his eyes, simply enjoying the feel of the rain as it stung his over sensitive skin, only further proving that this was reality. This was him. He was alive. _

_His Nightmares were dancing, it seemed, their steps graceful as they twined around the glowing flashes that struck between them, their ghostly beauty influenced by jagged streaks of violet in their dusty coats. _

_It was peaceful. _

_The Nightmare King inhaled deeply, allowing himself to focus on the gentle lull of his peace while it lasted. _

_He knew there was a war coming. He just didn't know yet who was to be going up against him._


	17. Chapter 17

**An actual update? Within a week of the other? It's a miracle!**

**Yeah, well, I'm in the writing mood. And I'm finally finishing up a couple of fics that have needed to be finished for a while, so I'm in a good-ish mood. The last chapter of Bloodstained Memories had me crying. Damn, why do I have to be so good at making myself cry with my writing?**

**I would like to thank everyone who has been putting up with my drama and other fun crap, as this fic only has a few more chapters before it too, concludes. Rather depressing for me, considering that this fic is one of my favorites. **

**IMPORTANT: If I were to do a sequel, would you read? I already have the end of WLoM planned out, but I could make it into a sequel if enough people were interested. **

**A shout out to Doug for being the two hundredth reviewer!**

**P.S Karma, I don't mind your self humor at all. It amused me.**

**P.P.S I suggest listening to Stompa by Serena Ryder for this chapter. It was very inspirational. **

**And I truly am sorry for all these short chapters. It's a little saddening for me, too. But I really need to make it like this. I promise that there will be much desired actiony scenes in the next chapter, but in the meantime, I'm afraid you'll have to deal with this. Sorry. Just please, spare me. **

**Warning: There is a lot of angst and hurt in this fic. **

**Disclaimer: I do not own Rise of the Guardians. **

**Summary: He had always been alone, always taken care of himself. Why would anything change now?**

o-o-o-o

Jack stood in the courtyard, the trees around him calm as the wind ruffled their leaves lightly. The sound soothed his nerves as he toyed with the Moonstone in his palm. Slowly, he stretched, feeling a few places pop as he did so.

Then, he took a stance. It was something that he had done on his own, after a long night of rest. The scroll hadn't really helped him, but his own mind would. He needed to create a new style for himself to fight with the Moonstone in his palm. Otherwise, he was going to be in trouble when he went against Pitch.

He had a pretty good grasp on the basics of his powers once again, but now he would have to up his game if he wanted to get anything done.

Breathing slowly, the Winter Spirit exhaled, frosty air escaping. It was odd, considering that he was taking some of this from a couple of shows that he'd seen aired over the years. One of which including something along the lines of Air something. Airbender? It was actually pretty cool, considering that he was a Winter Spirit and could therefore control the frost and clouds to his liking. He'd drawn on his minimal knowledge about what episodes he'd managed to pick up and was currently trying to come up with a new style of fighting.

So far, he was doing pretty well. Well, he thought he was, anyway.

The scroll Jack had found was pretty cool, despite the fact that he couldn't understand one bit of the characters that littered the surface in delicate ink brushes. The images that were painted around the edges were difficult to accomplish, and the Winter Spirit found that he could only do two or three before he found the stances getting a little too complicated for him to understand.

That didn't mean that he was about to give up now. Jack knew quite well despite his circumstances that with his staff, he was too predictable. With a weapon like that, he was more situated for defense and long range attacks, and Pitch could read through them too easily. Therefore, it would be beneficial for him to try and learn this technique. It could give him the edge he needed when he finally managed to get off of this cliff and back into his position as a Guardian.

Which still left him with the question of how the hell he was going to get off this cliff...

As far as he knew, there was really only one way, and that was a nasty looking trail that was not only narrow, but was dangerous and could kill him if he fell. Although, considering that he'd already tried falling to his death once already, he wasn't looking forward to testing his luck. It wouldn't end well.

Frowning, his brows furrowing in concentration, Jack quickly went through the stances he had picked up on the easiest before focusing on the next several for the next few hours.

o-o-o-o

"Ugh!" Jack snarled as he once again stumbled as he went through the stances he'd learned. His feet, light as he was on them, were not cooperating with what he wanted at the moment. It was really beginning to cause problems to his concentration. The Winter Spirit kept feeling rushed, as though he needed to be somewhere, but he couldn't place why exactly he was feeling such. Yes, he wanted to defeat Pitch, but if he rushed into a confrontation now, it would be the last thing he would ever do. Pitch would have him dead before he even made it past the Nightmares.

Unfortunate, but sadly true.

He knew he wasn't strong enough, and he knew that. It was part of who he was _now _that he needed to understand that fact. Sure, Jack had had his moments of stupidity and recklessness, but he was much more intelligent than he was given credit for. Like hell he wasn't some kind of dorkish teen who happened to love playing in the snow and causing people to slip on ice. It was his base instincts, technically, that caused him to do so. But that wasn't the case any longer.

Damn the Man in the Moon and his cryptic word games!

If North were here...North would be able to sort out all of this easily. After all, he would have the rest of the Guardians close behind. But it wouldn't just be that. It would be their family, the one they had had years to create out of the tiniest trust that they had put in one another during the Dark Ages, when Pitch had been strongest.

He couldn't even begin to imagine how awful those times had to have been. The world thrust into the shadows, only to be dragged back out by the Hope of Easter, the Memories that Toothiana brought, and the Joy and Dreams that North and Sandy gave to the children.

But it had to have taken years for the children to trust the Guardians. After all, how would they have known if it were a trap of some kind? The Nightmare King had been ruling over them for so long, it had to have seemed to be a trap. But they had eventually given in, and here they were today. Or rather, something closer to a month. It seemed so much longer than that...it was surreal.

It felt as though this personal war had been going on much longer than that between the Winter Spirit and the Nightmare King, something that had come to cross his mind more than once. It was repetitive, boldly standing out among his other, more mundane, thoughts.

Growling to himself, Jack threw himself back into the stances, trying his damndest not to give up on them now. Not when he was finally beginning to grasp the basics of these odds poses.

Bunnymund had said offhandedly once that he was a master of something like this, hadn't he?

Jack paused, the thought stopping him dead in his tracks. He realized that that probably shouldn't be something he should allow himself to be distracted by, but he couldn't help himself. It was something that needed to be thought about. Over the last couple of days, Jack had slowly been coming to terms with his bonds with the other Guardians. A quote had come to mind, something he had heard several times in his time on Earth. 'You didn't know what you had until it was gone', or some other thing like that.

The Winter Spirit could honestly say that he didn't really have bonds with any of the other Guardians, other than Bunnymund. The Pooka had been the only one to actually reach out to him when he had disappeared, though at the time Jack hadn't really been thinking straight...but that wasn't the point. Out of all the Guardians, Bunnymund had put the time and effort into at least trying to understand _why _Jack was so depressed and _why _he'd tried to kill himself. Everyone else just didn't get it, would never get it. No one would know why or how he had been hurt, and it was all his fault.

How could he have let Pitch get under his skin like that? Infect his thoughts and dreams with the poisonous bite that he used on everyone else. How could he have been so stupid? Pitch would never have spared any of the Guardians anyway, even if he had listened to the desperate pleas that he had used. Now that his mind was once again clear, Jack had a purpose. He was going to end Pitch once and for all, for all of the Guardians.

But mostly for his own satisfaction. The ashen bastard deserved it, for all he'd done.

"Something has to be in the air here." Jack suddenly blinked as he realized what he had just been thinking. "Either that or I've finally snapped..."

Shrugging, the Winter Spirit cleared his mind and went back to trying to balance on one hand, something that wasn't shown in the poses, but something to keep his mind from wandering back to the thoughts of the other Guardians.

o-o-o-o

_There was a prickling at the back of his neck, one that raised the inky strands. Warily, the amber gaze flicked over the surrounding stones, his ears straining for even the slightest of sounds. _

_There was nothing, other than the familiar thumping of his own heart and his Nightmares as they circled him watchfully, protectively. _

_The Nightmare King was chasing down the lightning storms, his own interests and memories of them part of the reason he continued to follow them. That, and their deadly grace and power, the rumble of the thunder that followed. It was something that had always intrigued Pitch, and they continued to do so, even as he awaited the coming storm that would rock the world to its core. _

_After all, he could only come to one conclusion of who would possibly be coming to battle, and it certainly wasn't one of the Big Four. _

_No, he'd come to realize that it was the frostbitten whelp who only continued to thrive, despite Pitch's efforts in taking down the pesky Winter Spirit as though he were nothing but an insect to be crushed beneath his heel._

_Basking in the glow of the lightening, he allowed himself a satisfied smirk. This would be much easier than he thought, if Jack Frost was the best that the Man in the Moon had to offer. _


	18. Chapter 18

**Hello, my lovelies. Nice to see you all again..heh. I'm back in the bunker for safety measures, but perhaps I'll be able to come out again soon. **

**Wow. I didn't think so many people would want a sequel. O.o It's a little shocking, really. **

**Okay then...I hope you all realize that if I do a sequel that it's not going to be the happy 'Jack gets Bunny and the Guardians back and Pitch goes to Hell' type thing. If I do a sequel it'll probably be just as angsty as this one was, if not more so. I'm warning you all now. But, if I do end up posting a sequel, it will definitely be a longer wait for posts. I need to work out a ton of details if this is going to work. And it's a major IF at this point. **

**Just saying. **

**Anywho, in other news, I've posted a drabble-fic called Hold Me Closer. It's about Pitch and his journey through Guardianship and how he became the twisted Nightmare King. It would mean so much to me if you would check it out, even though I've only got one chapter up so far. **

**I apologize once again for the freakishly short chapter. **

**Warning: There is a lot of angst and hurt in this fic.**

**Disclaimer: I do not own Rise of the Guardians.**

**Summary: He had always been alone, always taken care of himself. Why would anything change now?**

o-o-o-o

Jack woke slowly, feeling much more refreshed now that he had actually got some of his stances figured out.

The last several days had been pushing the Winter Spirit nearly to his limits, his sheer determination about the only thing that was keeping him from dropping dead. The Moonstone that was now his focal point was something that he had to get to know, intimately so, and it was foreign to him still. Sure, he'd managed to figure out a way of fighting that would utilize his mobility, but it still left him with some major flaws. Well, potential major flaws.

Without his staff, Jack was finding himself becoming a more offensive attacker, something that he was completely unfamiliar with.

Groaning softly to himself, Jack rolled over, fumbling for said Moonstone as his frost blue eyes struggled to open and shake off the dogged drowsiness that wasn't quite ready to leave him yet.

"How the hell am I supposed to figure out how to defeat Pitch with a _rock_?" he sighed, propping his chin on folded arms as he lay on the ground, examining the stone for what literally had to be the hundredth time, as if this time might reveal some sort of magic trick that hadn't been clear to him before.

But no, the Moonstone continued to lay innocently on the floor of the cavern, gleaming its usual vibrant hue.

Jack huffed, just a little irritated with the silence, both from the rock and the Man in the Moon. After all, a little more help would be appreciated. The guy couldn't just dump a rock on him and then go back to minding the world, right? He had to have one more clue hidden somewhere, just waiting for him to find and figure out.

Or did he really mean Jack to figure it all out on his own?

o-o-o-o

He whirled, his hands blocking another invisible blow, his white brows furrowed in deep concentration before he flipped and threw several quick blows of his own.

His tattered clothing really should be replaced, and he knew that there was probably enough sweat that he could freeze himself into a literal icicle if he so desired, but there was nothing on his mind but the single thought that he had to defeat this invisible enemy before he did anything else. Everything else could wait while he threw himself into this exercise.

With a growl, he whirled, lashing out with his heel, connecting with his foe's chest and knocking the wind out of him before thrusting his palms froward, frost already dancing along his slender fingertips, waiting for their turn.

Dropping down, avoiding a phantom blow that would have taken off his head if he hadn't dodged, Jack blocked yet another heavy blow before leaping and summoning his frost again, using his foot to slam a well placed pile of snow onto his new enemy's head, effectively removing them from this fight.

His heart pounding, he could practically feel the adrenaline pumping through his veins, giving him that extra, desperate edge, fueling him and giving him enough strength so that he would not fail in his mission.

And then there was an actual moment of white around him, chilling, cold, and none too pleasant as it closed around him like the water that he had met his end in all those years ago.

And then there was light, heat.

Jack flinched, prying open his eyes, not knowing to expect.

What he saw was completely unexpected.

He was now in the deserted bath house that he had found in the monastery, except that it was no longer deserted. Steam rose from a heated bath, the water beckoning him to dive into the depths. He probably would have, if he wasn't so confused about how he had been in the courtyard one second and here the next.

The light from the open windows shone in, illuminating the paintings that lined the walls.

This had to be the work of the Man in the Moon. There was no way that it couldn't have been anything else.

"Of course." he muttered, glancing around warily, as if said man would suddenly appear out of nowhere. It was a definite possibility, considering that he was so almighty and powerful.

Or, as he'd thought before, he was just going crazy. Yet another very possibly outcome to all of this.

_Jack, you really think that it would all be something so trivial? _

Jack whirled, instinctively reaching for the frost that he could once again use, his eyes darting around. The soft sound of laughter reached his ears, and he continued to turn in a slow circle, unsure of where the Man in the Moon was hiding this time. It had sounded as though the voice had come from right beside him, but as he had looked and seen that there really wasn't anyone there, he couldn't quite grasp what was going on.

_I have...rearranged your transportation method. _came the almost hesitant voice of the Man in the Moon. _Taking into consideration that your wind represents your freedom and your lighter side, it would make sense that you also have your darker, hidden side as well. _

"Meaning?" the Winter Spirit asked coolly.

_Your frost has the ability to take you where you wish. _

"I can _teleport_?" the teen asked in disbelief, a doubtful look crossing his features for a moment. "Correct me if I'm wrong, but isn't that a little out of the norm, even for a Guardian?"

_It has been known to happen before. I see no reason why it should not happen now. It would benefit you greatly, would it not?_

Okay, yeah. Now Jack could see where the guy was coming from. He was pretty much abandoned in a monastery in God knows where with no way to get the hell out of there.

Well, he did now, but that wasn't really the point he was trying to make.

"So, what? I'm like Bunnymund now?"

There was a soft chuckle, though it was tainted with the faintest sounds of sadness. _Not quite._

"So...what? I can get back home, can't I?" he questioned, crossing his arms. His heart longed to be home, where he could be closer to his origins. It was something that he had been missing since that day those months ago.

_Of course. _

"Okay then." Jack muttered, sitting himself down. "So what now?"

There was silence to his question. Rolling his eyes, Jack looked around the room, taking note of the clothing neatly folded next to the bath and getting the rather obvious hint.

"If he wanted me to take a bath sooner, he could have said so."


	19. Chapter 19

**I'm back already? Holy jumping Jack's on crack, it's a miracle, people!**

**Yeah...I'm a bit of a good mood, in case you couldn't tell. Well, both good and bad. I've been watching Shane Koyzcan again, which makes me emotional when I listen to a particularly personal one. **

**God! Why am I typing up such tiny, pathetic chapters lately? I am so, so sorry to all of you who keep expecting the actiony bits, but my muse and I are apparently having a difference in opinion. Excuse me while I go throttle it. **

**Warning: There is a lot of angst and hurt in this fic.**

**Disclaimer: I do not own Rise of the Guardians.**

**Summary: He had always been alone, always taken care of himself. Why would anything change now?**

o-o-o-o

He felt like someone out of that Avatar show, he really did. The clothing that had been left for him by the Man in the Moon very closely resembled the clothing that the main character, Aan or something of the like wore. Well, other than the fact that the clothes he was wearing were blue and white, and not designed for a fictional character.

Jack had to admit, however, that these boots were _comfortable_. As in, he never wanted to take them off again type of thing.

The bath had been pleasant too. After God knows how long he'd been coated in blood, dirt, sweat, and various other things that he didn't particularly want to remember having on his person, he was once again clean. His snowy hair was clear of any blood that had formerly been there, and his skin was a healthy...pale shade. Technically healthy for the Winter Spirit, not so much for the rest of the population of the planet.

Stretching, he felt several places pop loudly, settling into the new clothing.

It was light, lighter than he had been expecting at first, and was loose. Probably for more flexibility when going through the stances or meditating. And he had to admit, the colors were rather pleasing to the eye.

Jumping lightly, Jack took note of how the fabric stretched and pulled before jumping a little higher, testing the boundaries of his new attire.

To his slight horror, the frost that had enclosed around him earlier did so again, pulling him through choking cold for a moment before finding himself several thousand feet above the monastery, perched on the edge of the cliff. With a yell, he stumbled back, only to be pulled through the frost once again before ending up back in the monastery's courtyard, his original destination.

Breathing heavily, Jack looked around with wide eyes, unsure if this was some kind of trick. Had he just _unintentionally _used his new power and ended up several thousand feet higher in the air than he had been hoping for?

Of course he had. Knowing his luck, this new trick was going to become a nuisance unless he could figure out how to control it. Which he didn't exactly have the time for. The pull at the back of his mind was growing insistently stronger, tugging him in a vague Northern direction. Was that where Pitch was?

Hesitantly, the Winter Spirit reached out for that tingle in the back of his mind, almost able to reach it but not quite-

_I would not suggest you do that just yet, Jack Frost._

Yelping as if he had been burned, Jack jolted, nearly falling over in the process. Yeah, screw the whole, 'keep the boots' idea. As soon as all of this was over, they were _so _gone. How was he supposed to keep his balance if these boots were offbalancing him?

"What. Does that actually lead me right to Pitch?" he rolled his eyes with a huff, blowing his bangs out of his eyes. "Because honestly, that sounds just a little too simple to be true."

Silence greeted him, and Jack felt his jaw drop. Really? If he managed to connect with the creepy tingle he would be transported right to Pitch _fucking _Black, the same Nightmare King that had been tormenting him for as long as he could remember?

Wow. He was losing it.

"You're telling me that I basically have a time bomb going on in my head right now." Jack snapped, shaking his hair out of his eyes with an annoyed growl. "And that as soon as it goes off, Pitch and I are going to be at each other's throats faster than you can say Christmas."

More silence. Either the Man in the Moon had left, or was just ignoring him. Either were possible at this point in Jack's mind. Wouldn't really surprise him in the least, either. It was definitely something that the slightly mischievous Guardian could think of the elder Guardian doing. Especially if it had to do with the younger generation. Wouldn't want himself to go forever without some form of entertainment, right?

"Fine. Whatever. I'm just going to go and get ready to go into the deathmatch of the century. No big deal." the teen finally muttered, turning on his heel and beginning to fall into his defensive stance. The Moonstone was safely tucked away inside a small pouch that drew closed with a string, and that was safely tucked away in a small pocket in the inside of Jack's shirt. Tunic. Thing.

Frowning, the Winter Spirit focused on nothing but the feel of his muscles as they stretched and bended to his will, feeling the powerful rush of instinctive adrenaline as he began going through the motions of a mock battle. His irritation at the Man in the Moon still strong in his mind, he began with a strong series of kicks and acrobatics that were as complex as his thoughts before merging into a more relaxed stance as his frustrations waned.

It wasn't the Man in the Moon's fault that all of this had happened, exactly, though he had had a part in it. By choosing Pitch as a Guardian, he had accidentally doomed the rest of the Guardians that would come along in the future, which Jack could say with all certainty _sucked_. But he hadn't known that Pitch would go from being the Guardian that he had been chosen to be and the Nightmare King that he had become. No one could have predicted something like that.

_Then again, no one could tell what I was thinking either. _he mused as he rolled before lashing out with his palm. _And I hurt everyone by doing that. _

Actually, there had only really been one person, or rather Pooka, that he had hurt by doing what he had. And now said Pooka was either dead or wishing that he was. Regret bloomed in his chest as he whirled, thinking back on the last moments that he could remember of Bunnymund before he had disappeared.

He had been different. Not as closed off as he had seemed while around the other Guardians. It was something that he had only seen the Pooka do once before, and only after a little urging from one of Jack's enchanted snowflakes. But it had been on his own with Jack. It hadn't been forced on him, hadn't been suggested. Bunnymund had simply just fallen into a protector role for Jack.

Jack still wasn't entirely sure of what to make of that though in particular. Something had fluttered in his chest at that simple thought, and he wasn't sure if it was a good thing or a bad thing.

It scared the hell out of him, thinking about what it could mean, while it merely confused him in other aspects.

What were his feelings specifically towards the Pooka?

o-o-o-o

_Pitch felt the faint tugging at the back of his mind, something that was urging him that there was danger coming, danger slowly closing its fingers around his chest and beginning to tighten against his ribs, forcing him to choke for air. _

_He wasn't a fool. He could sense that Frostbitten brat readying something against him. He just couldn't quite place his finger on what he was planning. It infuriated him, really, considering that he still couldn't pinpoint the Winter Spirit's location after several weeks. His Nightmares knew now to keep safely out of reach of their master, as he had been becoming more short-tempered, less inclined to seek out the lightning storms that he so enjoyed being a part of._

_He had felt the faintest tingles of his own fear enter his heart, only for a moment, but it had been enough to alert the Nightmares that there was something coming, something much more powerful than they were, perhaps even more so than their master. And it struck fear into their own hearts. They, the epitomes of fear itself, the very representation of the word, were terrified of whatever had their creator and master on edge so frequently these past days. _

_And it wasn't good. _

o-o-o-o

He yelled as he was once again dragged through the frost, again ending up several feet away from where he had just been standing before being ungracefully deposited right back again.

This was seriously beginning to piss him off.

The Winter Spirit had been trying to go through his stances for the last hour and a half, but every time that he even began to make the smallest amount of progress, his warping ability struck, dragging him to all sorts of places around the monastery. Hell, he'd even landed in the valley below twice so far, where he had almost immediately been warped back up, leaving him more than a little out of sorts.

He had no idea how to control this warping technique, and this was the straw that broke the camels back. All of his insecurities came crashing down around him, nearly causing Jack to have a breakdown right then and there. Fortunately, he'd had a great many years to perfect his ability to conceal these emotions in the back of his mind, lock them away until he had the time to actually sit down and sift through them, categorize them before tossing them into the wind and allowing them to disappear back to where they came from.

But Jack didn't have time on his side. He was a walking time bomb, and he didn't know when he would be dragged to Pitch like a prisoner awaiting execution.

And that was the source of all his problems.


	20. Chapter 20

**Okay. That's it. I'm going to get a chapter out that's longer than 1k. (insert loud knuckle cracks here) Let's do this. **

**Oh...I've got my epic music in, btw. **

**Warning: There is a lot of angst and hurt in this fic. **

**Disclaimer: I do not own Rise of the Guardians.**

**Summary: He had always been alone, always taken care of himself. Why would anything change now?**

o-o-o-o

Jack spent the next two days resting, feeling the tingle in the back of his mind growing stronger. He could sense it, just like he had been able to sense a great many things, that he was going to be throwing himself into battle soon. Whether he liked it or not, it was going to happen.

So, he alternated his training. Several hours of stances and frost, with a little of unplanned transportation inbetween before he settled down for a catnap. This pattern repeated itself for about a day and a half before he decided that if he was going to fight Pitch, it was going to happen whether he was ready or not. So, he would just go in fighting without a plan. After all, it had worked two times out of three so far.

But would it be enough?

o-o-o-o

_He was growing restless. _

_The tug on him was growing stronger, urging him to move, to do something to soothe his ragged nerves and troubled mind. But he couldn't. He wouldn't. His instincts and his logic were silently warring over his mind, and his Nightmares had long since backed far enough out of the way should he lash out with his dark dust. _

_Pitch couldn't even begin to understand why he was feeling like this. It was something important urging him on, but he didn't believe it. For far too long, he had fallen for such tricks and every time, it had resulted in failure. But that wasn't going to happen this time. _

_No one was going to get the best of Pitch Black ever again._

o-o-o-o

Jack woke in the middle of the night to a sudden burn washing over his skin, and as he groggily pried open his eyes, it was only to be met with white.

The tugging in the back of his mind, previously docile, was now ripping through his head, tearing his thoughts into tiny little pieces as the cold enveloped him. And all he could think as he felt his body being strangled of air was, _Not now. _

The next thing he knew, he was being deposited in a dark cavern he thought he would never see again.

Shivering, shaking the remaining frost of of his pants, his bare feet caressing the ground, the Winter Spirit warily glanced around the underground city painted in shades of ashen grey. But there was no Pitch.

This couldn't mean anything good.

o-o-o-o

_As suddenly as the pressure had increased on his skull, it ceased, leaving him with a dull throbbing ache in its place. Snarling, Pitch whirled, his dust seeking out its victim like a finely tuned snake, piercing the side of the Nightmare that had been in the wrong place at the wrong time. _

_With a shrill scream, she collapsed in on herself, dust scattering across the ground before slinking back into Pitch's original dark dust, which retracted back into the former Guardian's palm. _

_He couldn't explain this feeling of anger and loss that gripped his chest suddenly, causing him to nearly keel over with a muffled howl. All he knew was that he wanted it to end, and end immediately. Otherwise, he didn't know if his head would split from the pressure or he would simply go insane from it all. _

_And then, there was a pull at the back of his mind, like a blip on the radar. _

_His eyes gleamed viciously, and he straightened, teeth bared in a victorious grin. _

_His prey had finally come out of hiding. _

o-o-o-o

Jack didn't like this place or the memories that it brought with it. The last time he had been here, it had been filled with the stolen memories and the kidnapped Baby Teeth. Not to mention that he had been drawn like a moth to a flame to his own memories. Memories that Pitch had held out tantalizingly to him, offering him a small piece of who he had once been. Simply a teaser.

He hissed softly as a cool breeze washed over him, raising the hair on the back of his neck unpleasantly. The Winter Spirit had the distinct feeling that he wasn't alone down here, but there were no signs of anyone or anything else. It was unsettling, to say the least.

He wandered the stone walkways, his curiosity spiked. He had initially been curious about this place, but given the time and the circumstances, he hadn't actually had an opportunity to return and take a closer look at the entombed city.

It had to have been from some former time period, but what was odd was that it was like the cavern had _been _the city. Bridges, metal hanging down from various perches..it was so mysterious, so beautiful despite the occupant of this cold and dark place.

Jack's feet kissed the ground, frost blossoming out from wherever his toes met the stone and continuing to creep along on its own.

His white hair glowed eerily, giving him an angelic appearance, even as his blue eyes flickered warily around the cavern, expecting an attack.

His guard was going to be stayig up, this time around. Jack settled into a slightly defensive stance, knees bent as he leapt up onto one of the 'rails' of the walkway and moved along. There didn't really seem to be a floor to this place, only a seemingly endless dark that stretched below, broken only by more architecture that would make a slightly useful safety net should he fall.

This was the place that the Man in the Moon had wanted him to come to? The one place that he could remember all too well?

Sighing, Jack vaguely realized that he recognized the arches that surrounded him, and as he actually began to take a closer look at everything, he couldn't help but mentally place all of the teeth down there, remember the cages that still hung there, only full of the Baby Teeth. It was all there, all familiar in ways he didn't want them to be.

With a shudder, Jack turned away, accepting the guilt that pulsed at him insistently. It had been partially his fault that all of this had happened. He accepted that fact now. Since he had been rescued by Bunnymund, he had been accepting of a great many things, and there was just one thing that he would not forgive, no matter how much he wanted to try.

And that was taking away his kin.

Pitch was going to discover the hard way why not to piss off a Winter Spirit.

o-o-o-o

_He was back in his makeshift circle of runes, the only sound that of his own breathing. _

_Excitement flooded his veins as the images flew through his mind, and suddenly he was struck with a place. A name that had been long lost on his tongue, his eyes narrowed to mere gold slits as he flinched. _

_So, the Winter brat had gone to retrieve his staff. The thought didn't quite sit right with him. According to records, that damned brat should have been dead three times over. _

_Grinding his teeth together, Pitch stood, ashen clothing billowing about him. That Winter Spirit had been causing him far too much grief since he had been chosen as a Guardian. He much prefered the weak, defenseless boy whose nightmares he had puppeteered. At least then he knew that there would be little opportunity for retaliation. _

_Summoning his Nightmares, he mounted the lead mare, his thoughts turned in one direction, and one direction alone. _

_Jack Frost. _

o-o-o-o

Jack hadn't just been wandering aimlessly through the cavern while he could. While the night above settled in, he was left to his own devices, and while he may not have been the mischievous type in particular, he did have a knack for causing trouble. That was something that he couldn't just ignore.

He had been planning out strategies for the last several hours. The Winter Spirit had been combing the lower levels of the city, and it turned out that there was more than just the shadows that made the ground up. It was actually because of the angles that the rails above made that made it look so dark and menacing. There actually were more bridges and structures down below that Jack could use to his advantage should the need arise. Along with that, there were also hundreds of smaller tunnels that branched off into smaller caverns, though none were as detailed as the main one. It was as if this civilization had lived in small towns and cities that branched off of this one. But what kind of civilization had done so? He didn't think that there were any kinds of people that had lived underground with such fine craftsmanship that could have done this kind of artistic construction.

The Winter Spirit had plotted nearly all of the cavern. All of them but one. And that was the one cavern that he would avoid at all costs. Considering that he knew that it was Pitch's personal lair, Jack was pretty sure that he wouldn't find anything of use in there. Other than that giant metal globe, there wasn't anything that he would see being of use, if there even was anything there. Pitch would have taken anything that would be able to be used as a weapon with him when he'd fled.

So, he was back in the main part of the cavern, running quickly through several stretches to keep him awake for the moment. Afterwards, he would rest, but for now he had a task that he would complete.

He continued to do so until a sudden breath of warmth filled the cavern, and he whirled, eyes narrowing. He could recognize the sound of a Nightmare anywhere.

"Hello, Jack."

o-o-o-o

The Winter Spirit looked healthy, Pitch noted. His hair was still as infernally white as ever, still pale skinned..but not the same. He was worn, hardened by the experiences he had had to face alone in the last several months.

"It's been a while." he continued, flicking his dark dust out experimentally. Jack shifted to one side with barely a flinch, allowing the dark substance to pass harmlessly by. His crystal clear gaze was staring straight into him, undisguised hate shining right through all of his stance. And yet he was controlled. Like a hunting lynx, he was ready to go through this battle. And he wasn't going to lose, either.

"Long enough." came the curt reply. Then he crouched, legs placed apart. It was then that the Nightmare King noticed the change in the brat's attire. Rather than the usual tattered clothing he was usually seen in, he was now wearing the style that he could recall only one other Guardian to wear.

"The Man in the Moon has been speaking to you."

It was a statement, one that Pitch was almost dreading to hear the answer to.

"So what if he has?" Frost challenged, flinty gaze unchanging.

"I suppose you're simply wanting to get this over and done with, aren't you, brat?" Pitch drawled, examining the cavern with distaste. He had never truly liked it down here. It was too confining, had been nothing but tragedy that had occurred here. "Wouldn't you rather hear about the looks on the faces of those other fools who I struck down one by one?"

A tiny tightening of Jack's jaw was the only sign that Pitch's words had affected him. It was a clear difference between the reckless teen that the Nightmare King had fought once before. Now, there was only the Winter Spirit that he had grown into.

This fight had just become that much more difficult, and it hadn't even begun.

He flicked his fingers, and the Nightmares around them disappeared, seeping into the black dust that was creeping back into Pitch's hands.

"You're not the same brat I nearly managed to end once and for all." he commentated, half lidded gaze not giving away any of his slight inner turmoil. "No matter. One way or another, you will fall. Just like every other Guardian that has managed to get in my way."

"I'd like to see you try." Jack snarled back, immediately falling into a defensive stance.

The Nightmare King and the Winter Spirit waited, their limbs motionless, waiting for the other to make a move.

And then they lunged.


	21. Chapter 21

**Hey guys. **

**This is the chapter that everything happens. **

**Warning: There is a lot of angst and hurt in this fic. **

**Disclaimer: I do not own Rise of the Guardians. **

**Summary: He had always been alone, always taken care of himself. Why would anything change now?**

o-o-o-o

_The Nightmare King and the Winter Spirit waited, their limbs motionless, waiting for the other to make a move. _

_And then they lunged. _

At the first glance, it would appear that Pitch had the upper hand in the initial blows traded off, but Jack was far from laying down and letting the Nightmare King trample over him like he had been for years. This was his chance to finally end the shadowy former Guardians reign of terror and fear and pain and suffering. And it would be for North. For Toothiana and Sandy. For Bunnymund. He would kill Pitch for them.

He wouldn't allow himself to be distracted now. Not when the slightest mistake could cost him his life.

Pitch swung low with the black dust, Jack dodging it lightly with a flip before landing delicately on the edge of a rail, crouching and throwing his palm out. Frost exploded out of his fingertips, blue eyes nearly glowing and his white hair blown back by the force of it. But through it all, his lips remained pressed in a thin line.

The Nightmare King held out his own palm, ready to bat the frost aside as he had so many times before, but found that this frost was much stronger than the last. It beat against his sand, slowly cracking the very molecules before enveloping him entirely in the frigid cold that stole his breath for its own.

"Have a taste of your own medicine." Jack intoned emotionlessly.

Pitch reeled back, his breath coming out in small bursts of steam. His eyes were wide as he looked at the Winter Spirit, and this time, he looked at Jack Frost without any of his confident smiles. He could tell that there was power crawling beneath his skin, but to this extent...he never would have imagined the brat to be able to control it with this much ease. It had taken him years to master the black dust that he had corrupted from Sandman, but in order to control his own power like that within a span of months...

"What did the Man in the Moon tell you, exactly, Jack Frost?" he narrowed his eyes again, the colder, more analytical side of him resurfacing. He knew he could win this battle if he threw his entire being behind it. All he had to do was get the brat to crack.

"And why are you so curious to know?" Jack replied easily, sauntering along the railing like it belonged to him. He suited his surroundings almost as well as the Nightmare King did himself. "Want to know if there really is some kind of Hell waiting for you when I kill you?"

Those words brought a thrill of something to Pitch's mind, but he couldn't quite place what it was. A moment later, however, the Winter Spirit lunged again.

The Nightmare King blocked, with some difficulty, the sheer force behind the fist thrown enough to throw him off his balance.

Jack's eyes remained cold, blazing with the lust for blood as he relentlessly beat against Pitch's defenses with his fists and frost.

That was it. Bloodlust. He craved the brat's blood bathing his hands. Craved it, dripping crimson as terror filled his crystal blue eyes, that fear of death feeding him like some kind of vampire.

He felt a toothy grin cross his features, fangs nearly bared, and he launched himself forward, sending his own blow flying towards Jack's face.

Jack ducked below the blow, and then he simply disappeared. Pitch paused, confusion flickering across his ashen features. What was going on?

"Looking for someone?"

He whirled, but it was too late. A heavy blow rained down on his jaw, sending the Nightmare King stumbling back.

"That was for North." Jack stated calmly, shaking off the aftershock on his fingers. "And truth be told, I wasn't even sure that that little trick of mine would even work."

Pitch's ears were ringing from the remnants of the fierce attack that he was sure had to have cracked his jaw at the very least, but that didn't mean that he wasn't able to retaliate. Focusing his dust into a blade, he slashed out, managing to clip his shoulder, slicing into the delicate flesh, tearing the fabric that lay over it. Contrary to what North and the other Guardians thought, his dust weapons were more than solid, and in turn more than capable to physically harm anything that was on the recieving end of said weapon.

Jack barely flinched, glancing at the wound for barely half a second before flipping off the rail that he had retreated to and vanishing from sight. Pitch growled, following. If it was a battle of games that this Winter Spirit wanted to play, the Nightmare King was all too willing to play along. If it meant that this damned brat would finally be finished, than so be it. He would play this game as long as was needed.

And then he would strike back, and strike back hard.

o-o-o-o

Jack breathed lightly as he examined the wound that the dust had caused. It wasn't deep, but it did sting, meaning that there was most likely dust in the wound. It also meant that it was highly likely that Pitch would be able to find him, no matter where he went in this cavern.

But that could also work in his favor. He'd explored these caverns, he now knew their basic structure and where all of the hiding places were. And Pitch probably did too. It would be extremely easy to work out some kind of ambush if he could just convince Pitch to play a little cat and mouse with him long enough that he would be able to set everything up.

The downside to this was that he would probably have to let Pitch get a couple of hits in before he tried to do this.

"You look troubled, Jack." a voice crooned from the shadows beside him. Eyes widening, it felt like slow motion as he brought his arms up to defend against the blow that Pitch sent against him with his blade, feeling the harsh sting of the wound that opened up on his forearms.

Then again, maybe it wouldn't be so hard to let the Nightmare King get a couple of hits in after all.

His top was already becoming bloodstained, the blue fabric tinting purple. Rolling his eyes, Jack ignored it and focused, feeling the frost wrap around him and crush him for several moments before he found himself back in the main cavern. Leaping up, he grabbed onto one of the cages and swung up, gaining the ground on Pitch so that he could possibly manage to get a good ten seconds of actual thinking in before the bastard followed him up here.

Okay. He would have to somehow manage to figure out how to tire him out, preferably without getting any more injuries. That would be step one. Step two, convince Pitch that he had won, or had the absolute confidence that he was going to win. And then step three; kill him. Everything after that would hopefully just sort itself out. Maybe he would head back to Burgess, check up on Jamie, go back to his lake-

"You should know by now that if you leave your guard down, I'm going to kill you." Pitch purred from next to his ear. Jack snarled, whirling and lashing out. Frost flashed through the air, and a startled cry from Pitch gave him enough of a clue that he had managed to connect. Jumping, the Winter Spirit twisted so that he landed in a crouch, elbows bending as they partially absorbed the force of the landing.

"And you should know by now that I'm not like most people." the Winter Spirit replied before automatically blocking as Pitch materialized. Pitch blinked, a little startled that the blow had been predicted like that. Was he really losing his edge?

The white haired teen readied another punch, and as Pitch hesitated, he let loose, connecting solidly with his nose.

"That was for Tooth." he warned before leaning back to avoid the wild blow that the other male was trying to land on his chest. His bangs lost several hairs to the next slash as he ducked, and he danced out of reach with the grace of a dancer.

"She was the easiest." Pitch commented. "She tried so desperately to run, but in the end, it was all too easy to extinguish that little birds light."

Jack growled, a low and vibrating sound that flowed through the air, almost causing the Nightmare King to shiver. It was all too delightful, his more feral side crooned. This kind of anger was exactly what it wanted, and it was getting its fair share of it as Jack's anger became more and more obvious.

A sharp kick to the stomach had the Nightmare King wheezing for breath.

"That was for Sandy." he said casually, as though they were speaking about the weather instead of battling it out. "And I still have one more to go."

There was simply no time to dodge the final kick that caught him in the side with enough force to completely topple him over the edge of the bridge that they were currently standing on. But the Winter Spirit made no effort to pursue him. He knew that Pitch would reappear any moment. He was regaining his breath for the time that he could before he threw himself back into the fray.

"And that was for Bunnymund." Jack growled, whirling to aim a high kick at Pitch's jaw.

However, this time Pitch was ready. Black and white collided, swirling together to create a giant mass of grey that slowly solidified into a horrific sculpture not unlike the one that they had accidentally created the last time that they had fought.

"The Pooka? Ah, I believe I recall him. He was searching for a book. A journal, if I recall correctly." Pitch mused, reaching into a pocket and manifesting a dark blue journal rimmed with gold. "He seemed quite intent on getting back to save you from fading away."

"What are you-?" Jack started, only to be cut off by Pitch's smooth voice.

"It has been discovered that it is, in fact, possible for a Guardian to fade. If a Guardian who possesses a secondary base item to focus their abilities, it is far more likely that this type of Guardian can and will fade with more ease than another Guardian who does not possess these qualities. This is due to the facts that a secondary base item usually contains most, if not all, of this type of Guardians abilities. Therefore, 'Secondary Guardians', as they are known to be called, must be far more cautious in the sense that their item must remain protected or close to said Guardian at all times.

Guardians who lose or have their secondary item destroyed or stolen in any way, shape or form soon begin to go through what is less than affectionately called 'withdrawl', which has serious negative effects on the host's body. During this stage, a Guardian can be known to display exhaustion, mild mood swings, heightened aggression, and several other ability related symptoms. Physically, a Guardian may lose excessive amounts of weight in a short period of time, along with a deteriorating mental state.

Unless this type of Guardian somehow discovers a new object to focus their powers through, or recovers their current focus, the Guardian will die within a period of one month." Pitch quoted, snapping the journal closed. "Your precious Pooka was trying to find a way to save you, Jack Frost."

Jack felt as though he were choking on air. Bunnymund had been trying to save him. He hadn't abandoned him. He had gone back to North's workshop to search for any clues that could tell him what was wrong with the Winter Spirit. And Pitch had gotten to him before he could return back to the monastery.

He clenched his fingers into fists, feeling a newfound emotion surging through him. The adrenaline pumped through his veins. He could hear his heart pounding in his ears like a drumbeat. He could feel the tiniest shifts of wind around him.

And he let it all go.

o-o-o-o

Pitch knew he had hit a nerve when the Winter Spirit bowed his head and clenched his hands into fists. But what he didn't expect was the sudden biting wind to explode out from the white haired teen, nearly causing him to fall over the edge of the stone ledge and down to the unforgiving rocks below.

"I'm going to _kill you, _Pitch." the words came, pounding into him with a pulse of the wind. "And you _will _regret ever telling me how he died."

In that moment, Pitch didn't doubt for a moment that the Winter Spirit would do it. He had pushed the teen too far, pushed him beyond what he thought he was capable of doing. And now he was dealing with some kind of monster disguised as a Guardian.

Jack snarled again, fists slowly being coated in what appeared to be ice. His face was saying everything that needed to be said; Pitch was going to die.

He felt the first stirrings of fear creep into his heart. He didn't know when the last time he had felt like this was. Perhaps it was when he had been just another ignorant human, unaware of the mythological world that remained just out of reach.

He slowly gathered his black dust to his palms, coating them so that he might land a heavy enough blow to stun the brat and leave him open enough for another blow. One that would hopefully finish this.

"Jack, Jack, Jack." he tutted, shaking his head. "You still think that you hold the upper hand."

"I know I do." the teen replied, unflinching. "I can tell you're beginning to wonder if you actually have a chance."

"Growing confident, are we?"

"Just stating the facts." came the simple reply.

Pitch felt his jaw tighten. Rather than he baiting this brat, it looked like the reverse was happening. And worse, it was working.

"Are you now?" he asked, thrusting his palms forward.

From his palms came a large head, amber eyes gleaming maliciously as it reared back, revealing the largest Nightmare that he could have possibly imagined. Nearly all of his black dust had been put into the creature, and it stood taller than both he and the Winter Spirit combined. Its flanks heaved, and it pawed the bridge they were standing on, causing the stone to crack heavily under its hooves.

This was his trump card, and Pitch knew that if this didn't work, then he was done for. This was what would take nearly all of his concentration from him just to ensure that it didn't accidentally absorb all of his black dust. After all, he still needed something to use against the Winter Spirit, who was currently sizing up the Nightmare that had manifested itself. His eyes narrowed, and then he was gone again with a flash of white.

The Nightmare whinnied, though it sounded like shattering glass to Jack's ears.

Wincing, he reappeared farther off, hands going to protect his sensitive eardrums. But he barely had any time to prepare himself as the Nightmare thundered towards him, nothing but a black wall of dust that threatened to consume him. Bracing himself, he threw his palms out, hoping that at least a small amount of frost would earn him enough seconds so that he could get off of this bridge and up to a higher level.

But it was easier said than done.

As his hands connected with the Nightmare, the frost did pause the leg that he'd connected with, but black dust immediately began to creep up his arms. Cursing, he wrenched away, falling back to a lower level. He was being driven towards the far below levels of the cavern, where he could be cornered and slaughtered. Jack's own plans of doing so to Pitch had been thrown out the window as soon as this new Nightmare had appeared. He was on the defensive now.

Pitch had to know that unless he'd brought out this Nightmare, he would be able to get a good blow in and finish him. Meaning that Pitch knew that the Winter Spirit was now much stronger than he had anticipated.

Analytically, he scrutinized the beast, looking for anything that he could use as a weakness against the goliath. But all he could see from his position was seamless flowing black dust, writhing about on the frame like a black hole.

Wait.

Could that be it?

The Winter Spirit darted up against one of the supports of the bridge as the Nightmare surged forward in an instant, wedging himself into the smallest space he could manage before closing his eyes and focusing on that tiny tug in the back of his mind. He felt the frost close around him, and then he was farther up in the cavern by several levels, which would hopefully give him enough time to formulate a new plan.

It would be dangerous, stupid and reckless, but then again, Pitch had made it rather clear that he wasn't expecting him to revert to something so desperate. But even if it did work, it was likely that it would end up killing both him and Pitch.

_You know what needs to be done, Jack Frost. _

Jack couldn't really help but roll his eyes. Of all the times the Man in the Moon had to add his two cents worth, it had to be while he was trying to decide if he wanted to go through what was for all intents and purposes suicide. But this time, it would be to take down Pitch.

"Doesn't mean I have to like it." he muttered back, leaping up another level, hauling himself up with his arms alone. The Man in the Moon didn't reply. He didn't really need to.

The blood staining the clothing he wore suddenly seemed to have multiplied, and he turned, only to see Pitch standing behind him, one brow cocked in a mocking question. Jack hissed as the blade in his side was removed, but he didn't fall. Glancing down, he was mildly surprised to note that it was just a shallow gash in his side, rather than the hole he had been expecting to see. Was the Nightmare taking out some of the energy that was needed to keep his weapons solid?

"You seem rather distracted, Jack." Pitch said softly, watching as the blood was absorbed into the blade, confirming Jack's suspicions. The Winter Spirit eyed up the Nightmare King for a moment longer before looking behind him, where the Nightmare had appeared.

"Yeah, well, I'm about to do something very stupid." he shrugged before making his move.

Turning, he launched himself straight into the Nightmare's chest.

o-o-o-o

Immediately, he found himself inhaling the black dust, choking and trying to breathe. This was his worst nightmare; feeling as though he were back in that lake all those years ago.

He had to force himself to relax. Closing his eyes against the stinging dust, he stilled, locking his limbs and refusing to allow himself panic any further than he already had.

Almost immediately, he fell into that state of calm that he knew he would need if he was going to take down this Nightmare and Pitch. Slowly, he inhaled, finding that it was in fact possible to take small breaths without inhaling that much black dust.

He dug through himself, not caring how spiritual it sounded to himself, until he found that one part of himself that he'd thought he'd never be able to remember again. The memory was short, something he'd almost forgotten over the years of more of the same.

_He was wandering the world, still new and curious and still not quite understanding why no one could see him. He felt like a child, helpless and dependant on something to take care of him, to teach him and comfort him. He still didn't know who he was. All he had was a name; Jack Frost. _

_Everything was driven by instinct and need. He'd brought snow to small villages, making the children look up in delight before they darted off from whatever they were supposed to be doing so that they could enjoy the cold. _

_It was late spring, and he was somewhere in Northern Europe. There was that same drive to bring snow, and he lighted upon a small tree to look over his handiwork. There was the slightest smile on his features, but it quickly changed to curiosity as he caught a glimpse of something in the spattering of snow that was falling. _

_It was blue, speckled with white and a soft green, and it was nestled in plain sight against the trunk of a tree. _

_Curiously, he moved closer before picking it up to examine it further. _

_It was an egg, painted with great care and left here for some reason. _

_He looked up as a snap sounded from in front of him, and he was in time to see a giant grey and white furred form stare right back to him before disappearing into the earth. _

It had been Bunnymund.

It had always been Bunnymund. All of these years, it had always been the Pooka that had come to mind as a protector, as a guardian, a friend. It was odd, that when put into a situation like the one he now found himself in, that he only just came to the conclusion that he was in love with the Pooka.

Jack slammed his arms out, breaking through the sand that swarmed around him, sand distorting and pulsing as frost began to stream from the Winter Spirit's body. Almost immediately, he could feel the sharp bite of his wounds, the itching, grating sensation of the dust as it coiled around him, felt it as it clogged his throat in a vain attempt to smother him. He felt the slightest of smiles pulling at his lips. He was a survivor; he had survived the last three hundred years against all odds. This was just another one of the odds that he had to best.

His heartbeat pounded in his ears, the steady rythmn slowing as more frost flowed off of him. He was draining himself of everything. His emotions, his thoughts, his memories..everything was being poured through his palms. In the pocket of the tunic, the Moonstone began to glow, heating itself to a startling degree as it too, began to pulse with Jack's heartbeat.

Here, he was alone. And yet, he could feel everything. He could feel Toothiana's hands on his shoulder, North's presence behind him, Sandman at his side, and Bunnymund at his other side. He could feel their pride, even though he knew that something like this was utterly ridiculous.

He pushed harder at the walls around him, felt them begin to give under the amount of frost that was being emitted from his body. He felt the cracks resonate through the dust, and then everything around him shattered.

He landed heavily onto a ledge, slipped off of it with a desperate whine of pain as the smooth stone slid along his injured side. One of his hands grabbed at the edge, holding him up even as his strength faded. The Winter Spirit felt weary, and wanted nothing more than to close his eyes and fall into the nothingness of sleep. But he couldn't. Not just yet. He still had something to do.

Swinging his other arm up, Jack bit his tongue to keep from yelling at the sting in his side and his exhausted muscles. Slowly, he crawled back up to the ledge and stood, feeling lightheaded.

Scattered pieces of ice lay everywhere, their hue tinted violet. Pitch lay farther off, his ashen form still. Black surrounded him, a sickly oil that was steadily pooling around his motionless body. Blood, the Winter Spirit realized.

There was a part of him that still, in the back of his mind, was telling him that he didn't have to finish Pitch off, but the truth was that he did. If he didn't, then there would be nothing to be gained from it. The Nightmare King would simply crawl off somewhere and recover, plot for another opportunity to strike and then attack mercilessly. There wouldn't be another chance to take him down. He would come back swinging even harder than this, and Jack knew instinctively that next time he really would die. Nothing would change if he didn't do something now.

Forcing his quivering legs to move, he stumbled forward, managing to make it over to the former Guardians side. As he did, he noted the small group of Nightmares that had reappeared as their larger counterparts life ended. That was the assumption that came to mind, anyway.

There were hundreds of small shards of the glass-like ice imbedded in Pitch's still form, and yet his chest doggedly continued to rise and fall with shallow breaths. There was one larger piece of ice as well, and it had done the most damage to the Nightmare King, having pierced his stomach.

"Come to gloat?" Pitch rasped, half lidded amber gaze following his movements.

"No." Jack replied quietly, crouching. "I came to finish this."

Pitch laughed, a hoarse bark that sounded more pained than amused before he coughed up a healthy portion of the black blood. "Then finish it."

Jack remained silent for several long moments before he pressed his hands against Pitch's chest. Slowly, frost crept over the Nightmare King's torn and tattered clothing until it rested above his heart. The Winter Spirit looked into Pitch's eyes and he hesitated only for a moment before the frost stabbed into his heart.

He arched, mouth opening ever so slightly as a gasp escaped him. Then he fell back, amber dulled to bronze as the life left his eyes.

The Winter Spirit felt something in him snap at what he'd done, and suddenly everything came crashing down on him at once.

He'd just killed someone. He'd just killed the Nightmare King with all of the patience a soldier would have. He felt as though he'd aged a thousand years, felt the world he knew crashing around him. His side flared to life as it made its pain clear to him, as did his arms and shoulder. Jack felt everything spinning around him, and then he was crumbling to the stone below him.

The Winter Spirit finally let himself cry. He cried for everything he'd never said to the other Guardians. They had cared for him despite the fact that he was known as nothing but trouble, and Bunnymund had been the one to lean against when he had nowhere else to go. Everything that Jack Frost had done had been for approval. The sign that he needed to keep going, to keep fighting.

And he knew now that all along, he had been wanting approval from Bunnymund.

Warmth surrounded him as he finally allowed the shadows in the back of his mind to take over, knowing that it was all over. Pitch was dead. The world had once again been saved. The children could live without fear.

But no one would ever realize that it had been a lonely Winter Spirit who had done it.


	22. Chapter 22

**To those of you who realized that this wasn't the end of What's Left of Me, you were right. It wasn't the end of this wonderfully angsty fic. But to those of you who still haven't quite realized it, go back and read through all of my AN's. You might learn something that I've been trying to hint at the entire fic. **

**This is the end of the road for What's Left of Me, but there's just a new beginning around the corner with the sequel, dubbed Fix You. I would like to extend my complete thanks to you amazing people who have stuck with me through this journey. **

**With an astounding 243 reviews, 262 favs, and 450 follows, I would like to conclude WLoM with one final thank you. **

**Thank you all. **

**Warning: There is a lot of angst and hurt in this fic.**

**Disclaimer: I do not own Rise of the Guardians. **

**Summary: He had always been alone, always taken care of himself. Why would anything change now?**

o-o-o-o

_He was having the strangest dream. _

_He was standing in the middle of the lake, the full moon shining down on him and the surrounding forest. But he wasn't alone. _

_Bunnymund was there too. And it was strange because he looked about as confused as the Winter Spirit was feeling. _

_Jack blinked, cautious as the Pooka's bright emerald gaze turned his way. There wasn't much that he could do about it. Even though his heart was swelling at the sight of the grey and white fur, Jack's mind was clinical, unwilling to fully accept anything in this dream. Every time he had, it had been taken from him and replaced with a nightmare, a specialty of Pitch's. _

_He didn't want to turn away, but he did so anyway. This was just another nightmare. Any second now, he would wake up, drenched in sweat, and wonder why he was always so helpless. _

_The Winter Spirit darted up into the trees, staff in hand, and ignored the shout behind him, begging him to stop, just like he had before. _

_Just like when he'd-_

_"Frostbite!" _

_Paws were suddenly cradling him, and Jack realized that the scene had changed. He was in the cavern where he and Pitch had been fighting- they had been fighting, hadn't they- and a worried face hovered above him. It was then that he realized how cold he was, cold as the ice that he'd come to possess. Shivering, he curled into the warm, listening to the worried voice calling his name. _

_"Frostbite!" _

_"Jack!" _

_"Jack!" _

_"Jack..."_

o-o-o-o

He was warm.

The Winter Spirit tiredly pried open his eyes, flinching at the light that suddenly assaulted him. God, he felt terrible. He couldn't quite recall how he had managed to become so tired and weary, but whatever it was had to have been pretty bad to leave such a mark on him.

However, when he realized where he was, he bolted upright.

He was back in the Warren. Above him, the cave glowed with the ever present sunlight, dappling the moss covered stones around him. The Winter Spirit found that he was lying against something soft...almost like fur.

His breath hitched in his throat as he moved a hand, encountering the velvety soft fur that he thought he'd never touch again, and he was moving in an instant, arms moving of their own accord as he launched himself at the Pooka's chest.

The effect was immediate; Bunnymund bolted upright, Jack's arms circling around the broad ribcage the best he could as he burst into silent tears.

"Frostbite." the Pooka murmured, curling his own limbs around the Winter Spirit's smaller frame and cradling him against his heart.

"I thought..I'd never see you again.." the teen hiccupped, burrowing deep into the long fur and inhaling, feeling all of his stress and worry and pain and grief simply disappear.

"Ah'm right here, Frostbite." Bunnymund assured in what could only be described as a half rasp, half cough. "Ah'm not goin' anywhere."

"You're really here." Jack said after several minutes of silence, leaning back to search the Pooka's gaze. "How?"

"Ah don't really know." the Pooka replied, tilting his torso back so that the Winter Spirit could comfortably rest on his chest. "But one second Ah'm in North's workshop and the next Ah'm wakin' up here."

"Are the others-?"

"They're all fine. North, yetis, Tooth and her Teeth, and Sandy. We're all here."

"But Pitch- he said-" the teen stumbled around the words, trying to find one that wouldn't quite come to mind. "He said that you were all..dead."

Jack's voice hitched on the last word, and with a comforting rumble, Bunnymund ran his paw through the Winter Spirit's hair, smoothing it back from his tired and haunted face.

"Ah don't know, Frostbite. But Ah had to find you. You weren't at the monastery when Ah went there. It was Sandy who found you. What happened, Jack?"

Jack suddenly found himself wanting to sink into a very dark hole somewhere far away from the probing gaze that was being leveled at him. He ducked his head, images flickering by in his mind, and he subconsciously shivered at the memories of Pitch's defeated gaze as he stared up into his killer's eyes.

"I can't." he shook his head. No. He wouldn't tell. The last time that something like this had happened, he'd nearly gotten himself killed. All of his instincts were taking over, not allowing him to think clearly through the panic that the mere thought of that battle brought to mind.

"Frostbite, you can tell me." Bunnymund urged softly, continuing to stroke Jack's hair carefully, protectively. "Ah won't let anything happen to you again."

"How can you say that to me?" the Winter Spirit whispered. "After everything that I've done, how can you just say something like that?"

He felt the Pooka sigh beneath him, and then he found himself shifted so that he was able to see the Pooka's face as he sat on his stomach. "Jack. Ah know that you've been through a lot. Hell, Ah've been with you for part of it. But no matter what, you're a Guardian, and the Man in the Moon chose you for a reason."

"I'm broken." Jack retorted. "That's all that's ever been to it. I'm broken, ugly and I've done things that I barely even understood! I _killed _Pitch!"

That one word, out of the entire sentence, had Bunnymund frozen beneath the Winter Spirit.

"What?"

Jack ducked his head again. He didn't want to see that disgusted look cross the Pooka's features.

"Frostbite, look at me."

It was a command, and Jack found himself automatically lifting his head, though he inwardly cursed himself out for doing so. But rather than the expected repulsion and disgust, there was nothing but pity in the emerald gaze that stared right on through all of the walls he had tried to put up against everyone, seeing right into what Jack never wanted anyone to see, prying into all of his secrets with ease.

"You killed Pitch?" the Pooka asked softly.

He nodded.

"Ah'm sorry, Jack." the other Guardian said, pressing his nose into the junction between Jack's neck and jaw. "No one should have to do that on their own."

"I did." he replied bluntly.

"It's not going to happen again." the Pooka promised. "Never again."

o-o-o-o

Seeing all of the other Guardians again for the first time since his suicide attempt was awkward for Jack. Tooth was immediately hovering all around him, fretting and checking to make sure that all of his teeth were still intact. North, to the surprise of everyone, had wrapped the Winter Spirit in the tightest hug imaginable and had simply held on for several loud moments. And Sandy? Well, the small man went through an entire scene of images that flickered by so quickly that the Winter Spirit didn't even understand the point that was being made.

It was like that at first. But then they wanted to know what had happened. How they had come back, what had happened to Jack while they were gone. And Jack simply couldn't tell them what he had done. At the time, it had seemed so simple, so instinctive, but as he looked back, all Jack could see was the animalistic brutality that he had used to end Pitch's life.

How could he live knowing that he had killed someone simply because the Man in the Moon had told him so? He had been herded, trained, and purposefully manipulated like a pawn in a game of chess.

And now he didn't know which way to turn.


End file.
